


godspeed

by quags1re



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Multi, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, do not repost to another site
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-11 18:00:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 47
Words: 308,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20157739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quags1re/pseuds/quags1re
Summary: [Blue Lions Route Spoilers]After the final battle goes terribly wrong, Byleth finds himself years in the past and decides to help end a war before it even begins.





	1. divinity

**Author's Note:**

> spoilers for the blue lions route. you've been warned!
> 
> YALL WAS I THE ONLY PERSON WHO DIDN'T KNOW THAT DIVINE PULSE WAS LIKE. LITERALLY A PULSE. CAUSE LIKE YOU KNOW HOW BYLETH WAS BORN WITHOUT A HEARTBEAT? DIVINE PULSE IS THEIR PULSE LIKE WHAT I DIDN'T EVEN REALIZE IM BIG DUMB
> 
> after 80+ hours, i finally beat the bl route. god i love everyone so much. so much so, in fact, that i immediately played bl ng+ LMAO 
> 
> okay this fic is me just wondering. even if byleth knows the future and does everything in their power to stop it, will it really matter in the end? short answer? yes. but i wanted to take it further and here we are. i hope you enjoy!
> 
> EDIT: hello to the person copy pasting my fic onto quotev and wattpad and saying it's theirs! yes you, Yuna-Hikari-Haru/Memory-Artist-Luna! please cease these actions at once and take down my work, which you have not received permission to post. thank you! keep off my fic. failure to do so will have serious consequences.

Byleth wakes up.

This particular fact is not unusual. Some days, before bed, Byleth wonders if he'll live through another night. Every morning he wakes once more, he's always surprised to see the sunrise. This time, however, Byleth wakes to a dark chasm of green and black, lights blinking behind his eyes.

The Holy Tomb.

Byleth sits up faster than a shot, his head ringing in protest. He groans at the vicious headache tearing into his skull with what seems like greedy delight, as the pain only worsens when he thinks on it too long. His eyes widen as he sees that the throne he's splayed out before is not entirely empty.

A girl steps down from her seat on high, steps delicate and light. There is a certain air about her that makes her seem ethereal despite how young she looks. "Sothis," Byleth breathes, "I've missed you."

Sothis comes to a stop in front of him and yanks at his left ear with bony fingers. The vicious pain starts up once more. "You _FOOL!_" Sothis booms, and Byleth mentally adds going deaf to what seems like a intensive list of injuries. "What in the world were you thinking, getting yourself hit like that?!"

_Getting hit?_

_ **Dimitri.** _

Byleth forces his limp body off of the ground and pushes himself to his feet. "I have to go back," Byleth breathes, "are they safe? Are they okay? Did I move Dima in time?"

Sothis frees his throbbing ear to pull at both of his cheeks mercilessly instead. "You, massive, idiot!" She emphasises each word with a tug to his face. "You moved the princeling in time, but you had go to and die for it, didn't you?"

"It's fine-"

"IT'S NOT FINE!" Sothis finally frees his cheeks as well to yank on her hair in frustration. "You used all your divine pulses! All of them! Is that even possible?"

Byleth swallows. "So what now?"

"Now?" Sothis pushes him down on the floor to sit properly, then gathers all of her robes into one hand before joining him. "Now, you die, I suppose."

There is a long pause. "And you don't even care, do you?"

"As long as Dima and the rest are okay, I'll be fine."

Sothis punches him in the arm. "How selfish! They clearly love you! How can you speak of your own life with such disregard!"

Byleth blinks. "I'm sorry, Sothis. To you as well."

"You'd better be," she huffs. "Well, luckily for you, you're not actually dead." She opens her mouth to say something, then firmly shuts it.

Byleth doesn't know what to say to that, so he waits for Sothis to compose herself first. "You are aware that when you were first born, you had no heartbeat? Even now, you do not possess one. And then, later on in life, you had learned that I had granted you, ah, a _divine pulse,_ so to speak. That pulse is quite literally the only pulse you possess. So when it runs out, and you die, you die for real. That was what was supposed to happen in theory- and yet, the proof against such a claim sits right in front of me."

"...So I'm not dead?"

"But you should be," Sothis concludes. "You and I are as one. I would know if you were truly dead."

Byleth blinks. "I feel dead."

"Oh, hush, you really did die. That Edelgard is quite strong in that form. Hegemon. How terribly ironic." 

"Are my students dead?"

Sothis shrugs, and a swirl of potent fear churns Byleth's gut. "I told you, you and I are one. I cannot truly see without your eyes. I do not know anything you do not know."

"I have to go back," Byleth repeats, grasping Sothis' hand. "Please, you have to help me."

She hums in response, but still grips his hand back tight. "Don't you think I've tried? It seems as if fate had other plans for you, though."

"What do you mean?"

Sothis takes a breath. "If you're supposed to be dead, and you're with me, of all places, that means you really were not meant to meet your end there. And yet, you had used up all of your divine pulses. Which means-"

"Which means?"

"Don't interrupt me!" Sothis chides, looking distraught. "Which- Which means you're about to wake up."

"Sothis, what-"

.

Byleth wakes up.

This particular fact, is not unusual. Some days, before bed, Byleth wonders if he'll live through another night. Every morning he wakes once more, he's always surprised to see the sunrise. However, the man hovering over his face is quite the unusual sight. 

Especially since he's been dead for over five years.

"Hey, time to wake up," Jeralt says.

Byleth stares up at his father's face, eyes wide. If he had a heartbeat, it would have halted in this moment, at the sight of a dead man walking. 

"Father," Byleth breathes, and Jeralt gives him a confused look. 

"What's up with you, kid? I know it's early, but you seem really out of it. Hurry and put on your armor." Byleth, still in shock, cannot do anything but comply. Even as he steps behind a screen to change, his eyes never leave his father's figure, as if he would completely disappear the moment he left his sight. 

When Jeralt sees that Byleth's finally in full armor, he nods. "Were you having that dream again?"

Byleth cannot do anything but stare openly, but then he clears his throat. "Father," Byleth repeats. "Father, you're here..."

Jeralt gives him an odd look. "This is our house. Of course I'm here."

As quick as Byleth is to swallow his sobs, a tiny whimper leaves his mouth before he can suppress it. Jeralt, sharp as ever, catches the sound. He turns on Byleth with wide eyes. "Kid, what-"

"Father," Byleth sobs. "Father, father, I-"

"Byleth, are you _crying_?"

"I had the most awful dream, and-"

Jeralt does not hesitate to gather his child in the cradle of his arms. "Why are you crying? Kid, this is the first time I've ever seen you cry!"

"You died, and-"

Jeralt shushes him gently. "Are your tears for me? There's no need, kid. I'm right here." His father reaches up to brush one of his tears away, thumb rough against his cheek.

"I'm so, so tired..."

"It's alright, kid. I think you can take a quick nap for another ten minutes or something, get a glass of water, calm yourself down. You have all the time in the world."

Byleth almost laughs, because ha! How terribly ironic. Despite time being quite literally at Byleth's fingertips, it had always seemed to slip out of reach during important moments. 

"Hm? Good grief. Everyone is already waiting outside."

One of the mercenaries his father leads bursts into the room, looking out of breath. "Jeralt! Sir! Sorry to barge in, but your presence is needed!"

They do a double take when they see Byleth's face. "K-kid! Are you crying?! That's never happened before! Wait 'til the others hear-"

Jeralt steps in front of Byleth to shield him from view, scowling at the mercenary. Byleth hurriedly wipes at his eyes, blinking away any stray tears and getting rid of any expression whatsoever on his face. He's quite good at that, after all.

They march out the door, hands on their weapons, and Byleth feels nervous for some reason. Was it because he was just crying? Was it because he was tired? He had no clue, until the sight of three very familiar people caught his eye.

_Claude. Edelgard. Dimitri._

Byleth takes in a shuddery breath once his gaze rests upon them. They look so _young._ Looking at their soft faces and their big eyes is like a slap to the face.

_How is this possible?_

"When I tried to send you back," Sothis begins, at the back of his mind. "This happened. Incredible. We're about seven years into the past!"

Byleth doesn't flinch, but it's a near thing. They're so young. It's almost jarring to see Dimitri with two eyes, to see Claude's baby face clean of facial hair, to see the future emperor with ribbons in her hair still.

He wants to gather this Dimitri into his embrace and protect him. This boy had already suffered so, so terribly, and there was no way to protect him from that, but Byleth could still protect him from battles yet fought, suffering yet waged, future trauma. He wants to protect Claude, who fought desperately to save his people, who called to them in times of trouble, who handed them his relic with a smile. 

Edelgard.

Edelgard...

He doesn't know how to feel about her.

Byleth can't help but resent Edelgard, feel a sickening sense of recoil build in his chest the longer she stands next to Dimitri and Claude. He can't look directly at her without seeing someone who started a war, without seeing someone who had caused not only the pain of someone Byleth held so near and dear to their heart, but also the deaths of tens upon thousands of people across Fòdlan. The grim hands of Hegemon. Reckless abandon. Arrogance. Whatever was wrong or right, did one person have to decide it for the rest of the country?

And yet. 

And yet.

Byleth didn't know everything.

There was no question in Byleth's mind, knowing what he knows- Lady Rhea was one of the most suspicious of them all. There was no doubt that she had her own plans for Byleth- likely, when he sat upon that throne, Rhea was expecting _something_ would happen. And Dimitri definitely did not have clean hands either. Not only that, but Byleth was willing to bet anything that Claude had bloodied his own hands to keep his people safe.

Byleth had no doubt that fate would change no matter which hand he had taken. 

But seeing a young Dimitri standing in front of him now, desperately pushing away his own ghosts and hiding his trauma from the world, any other option fell away.

**Byleth had to prevent this war.**

"So, what will you do?" Sothis asked him, as the figures of his former students approached. "Will you let that bandit kill Edelgard this time?"

_I doubt she'll die,_ Byleth thought to himself. Sothis laughed in response. 

"Well, we'll see, won't we."

"Please, forgive our intrusion." Byleth startled at how much softer Dimitri's voice was. "We wouldn't bother you were the situation not dire."

"What do a bunch of kids like you want at this hour?" Byleth's father demanded, voice more stern than he had remembered.

Byleth immediately assesses his soon-to-be students. It was a habit he'd picked up after monthly missions, so he'd know when to push them onto Mercedes or Annette, or even Sylvain. A few scratches here and there, nothing too serious, but were Byleth still capable of healing he would still patch them straight up.

"You are," Sothis interrupted his thoughts.

_Huh?_

Even without seeing her, Byleth knew she was rolling her eyes. "Eloquent as always, aren't you? Try it out."

Still confused, Byleth raised a hand and a heal spell washed over the students. Byleth blinked in surprise. He didn't see that coming. 

"Thank you," Dimitri said, looking at Byleth with wide eyes. "You're a healer?"

Byleth, not ready to be addressed, shrugged. 

"Smooth," Sothis said, cheerful.

"A-anyway, we're being pursued by a group of bandits. I can only hope that you will be so kind as to lend your support. Uh, again, I mean."

Jeralt gave Byleth an odd look before turning back to look at the kids. "Bandits? Here?"

"It's true," Edelgard replied, and it took Byleth everything he had not to flinch. "They attacked us while we were at rest in our camp."

Claude decided to speak up as well. "We've been separated from our companions and we're outnumbered. They're after our lives... Not to mention our gold."

Sothis hummed. "Well. This is awfully familiar, is it not? Memory eludes me now, but isn't this exactly what they've said before?"

Byleth feels as if it's word for word. He doesn't remember everything, but he remembers that next, he and his father would be dragged into battle to help fight off the bandits, so that they would not reach the village. All he remembers was feeling distinctly annoyed, disoriented, and quite tired from a lack of sleep.

With the lure of battle guiding him forward, Byleth steps into battle, sword drawn.

Compared to all the battles he's fought recently, these bandits are laughably easy. Byleth takes to fighting like a bird takes to flight, and he needs to let off some steam, so he allows his sword to sing for him. Battle is the perfect way to stop Byleth from thinking.

It's like clockwork, slipping back into battle with the three of them. Of course, Byleth knows Dimitri's fighting like an extension of his own sword. But extensive research on Edelgard's moves, and fighting alongside Claude during that port siege, as well as the many mock battles they'd fought over time, Byleth knows how to direct the three of them as well. He knows how Edelgard favors protecting her left side, and how Claude will back off if he was getting flanked. He knows Dimitri's tendency to take on all of the burden, so Byleth runs with him to the front lines and covers his back while he runs ahead.

One of the bandits swings their axe at Dimitri's head, so propriety be dammed, Byleth yanks the back of Dimitri's shirt so he's repositioned behind him. Parrying the move, Byleth ducks to slide his blade into the bandit's chest. He thinks he hears a whistle from behind him, but he's not entirely sure.

Soon enough, the bandit leader Kostas makes a true appearance, so Byleth turns to make eye contact with Claude, and nods in the leader's direction. Claude blinks before nodding back, notching an arrow and letting it fly. As soon as it hits Kostas, distracting him, Byleth steps forward and knocks him in the forehead with the hilt of his sword. Kostas hits the ground so hard it almost reverberates. Byleth sighs. Hopefully it'll keep him under for a little while.

Of course, just to spite him, Kostas gets up instantly. Byleth frowns. Maybe he didn't hit him hard enough. He steps forward, ready to draw his sword again to protect Edelgard- 

"What are you doing!? Have you forgotten what happened to you because of that girl?!" Sothis shrieks, indignant. The back of his head rings. "Remember, you've got your divine pulses back now. It's seven years in the past! Why don't we watch how this turns out? Besides, your little princeling and Claude are too far to take the blow for her. Let's just watch how this plays out."

_Are you actually angry that I died because of her?_ Byleth asks, confused.

Sothis snorts. "No, why would you ever think- OF COURSE I'M ANGRY!" 

Byleth flinches, feeling chided. "You are to stay put and watch, young man." Sothis scolds. "Stay _put._"

Byleth can only watch as Kostas descends on Edelgard, axe raised in a swing. Byleth's eyes widen as Edelgard whips out a dagger. This, he remembers. However, he was not aware at the time that this was the very same dagger that Dimitri had gifted her when they were children. The dagger Dimitri had found when Jeralt was killed, the dagger that Dimitri had handed back to Edelgard before the final fights.

Could it be that Edelgard had already planned this entire situation out from the beginning?

As Byleth watches the axe swing down, he wonders if it was alright for him to wish that she was at least scratched by the blade. Perhaps even cut by it. There is a certain feeling bubbling up in his chest, a feeling that gnaws at him, his sword hand, his head. Byleth doesn't think that he's ever wished death on anyone, not really, save for Kronya. Perhaps Edelgard as well, when Dimitri would think of nothing but vengeance and the ghosts that would claw at his back. But not as much as others. 

"It's called bloodlust," Sothis says. "You should know. You've seen it in your little princeling enough."

The axe swings down. Of course, Edelgard is too skilled a fighter to be felled by one axe. She quickly parries it with the dagger, but the tiny weapon is no real match for the heavy axe. The axe continues down its path, only slightly altered, and slices a good part of Edelgard's left arm. She groans in pain, and sinks partway to the floor before jabbing the dagger into the meat of Kostas' thigh, who howls in pain. Swearing and cursing up a storm, Kostas flees the scene, limping the entire way. Of course, that is when Alois and his knights appear, making the rest of the bandits flee.

"Pity," Sothis sighs. 

_Sothis._

"What?! Fine. But she's not dead, is she? I bet she'll soon make it so you wish she was."

_That may be so, but that wasn't nice._

Sothis scoffs, the sound harsh on Byleth's ears. "And? She killed you, among thousands of others for the sake of some lofty ideals! Because she thought her cause was just, her reign was just! Who is she, to measure lives against one another for a cause? Is it her and her alone that decides the cost of life, the cost of the future? Does she get to decide who lives and dies for her own view of what peace is?! I'll never understand that girl!"

_Sothis, please calm yourself-_

"I AM CALM!"

Byleth is shaken out of his stupor by Alois running over to his father, heavy armor clanking along with his steps. He's waving enthusiastically at his father, and in turn Jeralt looks as if he'd just witnessed the calamity coming ever so closer, step by step.

"CAPTAIN JERALT! IT'S BEEN AGES!"

"Aw man," his father groans. "Not this again..."

"IS THIS YOUR CHILD?!"

Byleth's about to walk over and save him from Alois' overenthusiastic nature, until someone taps him on the shoulder. He whirls, hand on his sword hilt, to see Dimitri standing there, wide eyed. 

"Pardon me, but you healed us earlier, right?" A nod. Dimitri sighs in relief. "Would you mind healing our friend again? She was hurt by the bandit."

Byleth allows Dimitri to guide him over to where Claude's helping Edelgard to sit up properly, hand on her back. With one wave of Byleth's hand, the wound closes up. He can practically see Sothis pouting in the back of his mind.

"It may leave a scar," Byleth replied, voice low and soft. "I am not a skilled healer."

Edelgard shakes her head. "Nonetheless, I am grateful. You are a skilled fighter, though. That much is certain."

Claude grins. "You were quite the force of nature back there! I've never seen anything like it."

"Ah yes," Dimitri added, looking quite flustered. "I forgot to thank you for helping us out, and forgot to introduce myself!" He does a short little bow. "I am Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd."

"Claude von Riegan," Claude says, quirking the side of his lips. 

"And I am Edelgard von Hresvelg. Once more, I must thank you for coming to our aid. You are Captain Jeralt's child, are you not? The Blade Breaker. Former Captain of the Knights of Seiros, oft praised as the strongest knight in history. No wonder you were exceptional out there. Did I miss anything?"

Byleth tilts his head to the side. It's still odd for his father to called Captain Jeralt, at least in his eyes. "Captain?" He replies, head tilted to the side.

"You mean you don't know?" Claude asks, intently watching him. "Even I've heard the tales of his blade piercing the night, swift as the wind, breaking blades as easily as he breaks open a flask." 

Byleth frowns at that, and Claude, picking up on it immediately, backtracks instantly. "Ah, it's not a bad thing! I was just saying that he's quite strong."

"I believe I've heard stories of you as well," Dimitri continues, hand to his chin. "The Ashen Demon, the Blade Breaker's only equal, striking down enemies with not even a hint of pleasure or hate. Nor a speck of blood on your clothes! The mercenaries that were meant to come with us as battalions all but sung your praises back at the monastery! You were just as exceptional as the stories say!"

Hearing that Dimitri knew of him before they had even met made Byleth feel warm. 

"Which brings me to my proposition. The way you held your ground against the bandits' leader was captivating! You never lost control of the situation. It showed me that I still have much to learn."

"Your skill is precisely why I must ask you to consider lending your services to the Empire." Edelgard cut in. "I might as well tell you now. I am no mere student. I am also the Adrestian Empire's-"

"Halt, Edelgard. Please allow me to finish my own proposition."

Byleth definitely remembered this. The students, eager to attempt to endear the idea of Byleth lending his strength to one of their lands, would bicker back and forth to each other. As of now, such a sight was harmless. But Byleth, who knew the events of the future, struggled violently against his own nausea. He could barely hear what they were saying over that terrible ringing-

"Byleth, they're asking you a question! Byleth!"

"Uh- I- I don't know." Byleth then swore violently to himself in his head. Was he allowed to use a divine pulse for this? They seemed to refresh everyday, either way. He was totally allowed to use a divine pulse, right? It was his own power, anyway!

Sothis sighed. "Why are you like this. They were asking you where you were born!"

_Then I wasn't actually lying!_

"You don't know?" Claude asked, looking surprised. "You just keep getting more and more mysterious as the day goes by..."

"How do you not know?" Dimitri said, incredulous. "Next thing you'll tell us you don't know anything about the Church..."

"I don't."

This, too, was not entirely a lie.

"What?! You live in Fòdlan and you don't know anything about the Church of Seiros?! I'm sorry, but that's just incredible. I almost can't believe it!" Claude insisted, eyes shining as if he'd just laid eyes on a delectable looking sort of prey.

"But you can heal," Edelgard insisted. "Normally people of no faith whatsoever cannot use any healing spells!"

Byleth thought to himself for a moment. "I have faith in my skills. My father. My battalion. That's all."

For some reason, the three of them look absolutely stunned. Was it so odd a statement?

"I suppose you didn't need to tell them where you were born to impress them," Sothis sighed. "It seems as though no matter the time, these three will always be just so taken with you."

Byleth blinks, slow. _It's not as if I'm trying to impress them._ At this, Sothis laughs. 

"Perhaps that is the problem." 

No matter how much Byleth prods, Sothis refuses to tell him why she had said such a thing.

.

Jeralt had taken him aside, explained the entire situation, and then suddenly they were off to the academy, Byleth's ears being talked off by every single person here.

_I must do things right this time. I must do things right this time. I have to stop this war before it begins. I have to protect Dimitri. I must do things right this time-_

"Please stop, you're giving me a headache, and I am quite literally divinity," Sothis groaned. "Besides, they all want your attention. Why not give them some of it?"

"Byleth is your name, correct?" Alois boomed, practically skipping at Jeralt's side. "Goddess, you look absolutely nothing like your father! That shade of green looks quite familiar, but I don't know why..."

Byleth reaches a hand up into their hair and is shocked when they pull down a pale green coloured lock. Sothis hums quietly at the back of his mind. "I suppose this is quite telling that we're not from the right time. Explains why you still have access to all your pulses again. I wonder... If you called to the Sword of the Creator while in range, would it come to you?"

_Called to it?_

"Well, yes-"

"Ah, that reminds me! It looks like Lady Rhea's hair, almost!"

Byleth is aware that there is probably a deeper meaning to that. How familiar Rhea treats him, how partial Rhea always was to him, how he had once woken up in her lap to her singing. 

But right now, Byleth's too distracted by everyone trying to talk at once, along with the knights all speaking to each other, trying to catch up. It's rowdy, and Byleth's head is already too loud.

"I would be happy to show you around the monastery once we get there," Dimitri is saying, a pleasant smile on his face. "We can get to know each other as we walk!" It's odd to Byleth that they're not walking side by side. Before battle, the two of them would bring up the rear, talking strategy amongst other things. If Dimitri was feeling nervous, he'd take Byleth by the hand. It became a habit later in war, when Dimitri had learned to face his demons head on.

This Dimitri was still yet plagued by his own demons, and could not trust anyone with them, not even Dedue or any of his childhood friends.

Byleth desperately wanted to take his hand and search for easy comfort in their familiarity. It got to the point where Byleth could do that with any of his students- but now, Byleth was incapable of even walking at Dimitri's side.

"It really is Fódlan in a nutshell," Claude added. "The good and the bad. I can also walk you around if you want!"

"Like it or not, we'll be there soon." Claude pouted at Edelgard's words.

"What's wrong with some friendly banter?" Claude asked, still cheerful.

"There is nothing wrong with conversation." Edelgard replied, sticking her chin up in the air. 

"Then I'll just keep talking. Byleth, right?" It was odd to hear his name pass the lips of his students, instead of professor. "We've got some great food in the dining hall. We've even got a fishing pond, if you're into that kind of stuff."

Byleth opened his mouth to contribute. "I like fishing." And then closed it.

Sothis groaned. "Way to contribute. Don't you want to get to know them better, to talk it out more? Say something else!"

Luckily for Byleth, Dimitri picked up the slack. "Then I think you'll have fun at the academy with us. You look about our age. We'll have fishing tournaments, I hear. You can catch all the fish you like. It'll be grand. Can you cook?"

Byleth nodded. He could hear Sothis clapping her hands in sarcasm. So he tried again. It was much harder to speak without people who knew his tells, his subtle gestures. "Spicy fish and turnip stew," Byleth said. "Sweet and salty whitefish sauté. Super spicy fish dango, fish sandwiches. If it's got fish, I know how to cook it."

His stomach growled at the thought. How embarrassing! Luckily for him, he had mastered the stoic face long, long ago, and didn't flush when Dimitri grinned and Claude laughed in response. "Forgive us," Dimitri said, a smile in his voice. "When we barged in on your house we prevented you from breaking your fast, haven't we? You can get a meal at the dining hall. We could share a meal together, actually! The way you're talking about these fish dishes is making me hungry as well."

Claude laughed. "Please stop trying to steal him away with the allure of food."

"I'm not trying anything," Dimitri retorted. "I just want to share a meal with him, is that so wrong?"

"Ah, we're here!" Alois announced, voice cheery. "Welcome to the monastery!"

It was like whiplash, seeing the monastery in a full state of repair. There were no bodies littering the area, nor stray arrows, nor crows picking away at scraps. There were no giant holes in the walls and no debris strewn across the flower fields. It stood tall and majestic, a flattering shade of gold in the sunlight. Byleth half expected it to catch fire the moment he laid eyes on it. 

He would spend a year here trying to end a war that had yet to start. 

Byleth would be lying if he said he was prepared.

Alas, time would not wait for him to be ready.


	2. halcyon days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY BLUE LIONS SPOILERS BUT I REALLY SHOULDNT HAVE TO SAY THAT IF YOURE HERE
> 
> ISNT IT FUCKING HILARIOUS THAT WE ACCIDENTALLY TOPPLE A PLOT FROM THE SLITHERERS THAT TOOK THEM HUNDREDS OF YEARS??? ACCIDENTALLY???? omg we really be ending plots without breaking a sweat lol. like that arundel bitch thought he could continue to feign loyalty to edel by killing our asses but he did not see dimi coming in for the crit-
> 
> okay in all seriousness. holy fuck you guys. your support on the first chapter was so fucking wild i was amazed. thank you so so so so so so very much. you guys are incredible. thank you.

It should be reassuring, _relieving_, to step once more into a monastery without decay or rubble, with smiling students and full halls but all Byleth could feel was an all-consuming sense of dread and ruin. These were all people that Byleth was now responsible for, that Byleth had to protect.

Byleth could not help but gawk at the pristine statues, the waxed floors, the high ceilings with nary a scratch. It felt almost as if Byleth would reach out and touch anything, they would crack and crumble under the slightest brush.

Byleth shuddered at the thought of this place submitting to chaos once more.

He feels as if he's in a daze. He's running around, words passing through one ear and coming out the next, the buzz of all of these people flooding his senses. Byleth's talking to Edelgard. Then to Claude. Then to Dimitri. Then to everyone else. He's not even speaking but they're filling the silences. Everyone is so young- too young- unaware of the trauma they'll face and of how their past trauma would catch up to them soon. Everyone is smiling. The sky is blue. Dimitri's eyes- _plural-_ are blue. 

It's as if he's surrendered the reins of his body to someone else. Walking around on auto pilot, responding to questions, nodding silently at words.

It's so much. It's _too much._ The light in their eyes is invigorating and yet intimidating all the same. People are staring, at his hair, his eyes, his gait. 

Byleth is afraid.

"It is not your burden alone," Sothis murmured. "Nor should it be seen as one. Rather than look upon this task with gloom, perhaps you should think of it as a gift of sorts. Not everyone is allowed to rewind their mistakes wholly."

_I suppose,_ Byleth thought back. _I must do all that I can._

A pause. "I've oft wondered why you've always taken on these hooligans' troubles and worries. Without any sort of reward, even. A terrible mercenary, you are." 

Well. Byleth's never been told that before. 

"You are told their traumas and their innermost thoughts, and bear them all on your back, silently, a mere pillar for them to bounce words back off. I spent a long time wondering why you wouldn't simply distance yourself from such frivolities. Then I realized. You simply love them all, don't you? Foolish boy. What about your own feelings?"

_What about them?_

"You are utterly ridiculous," Sothis chides, voice still tinted with humour. "Ah. You are being called on."

Byleth blinks and he's standing in front of Rhea, Seteth frowning disapprovingly at him. At his sides are Manuela and Hanneman, both staring. 

Seeing Seteth look at him with such a distrustful expression is almost nostalgic. Rhea, spine outstretched to the heavens, looks as passive as ever. Byleth almost shudders.

"Forgive me," Byleth says, his voice almost a whisper. "What was it that you were asking of me?"

"If you were paying attention, you'd know that you are choosing which house to lead now," Seteth bit out, arms folding across his chest. "More proof that you are entirely unworthy of doing so." Rhea sends him a look that makes Seteth curl into himself slightly, and if Byleth did not know the man, he wouldn't even have noticed.

Byleth doesn't even bat an eye. "The Blue Lions," Byleth says, without hesitation. Sothis snickers at the back of his mind. 

Manuela claps her hands together. "Then dibs on the Black Eagles!" She smiles widely at Byleth, winking. "Phew, I'm glad! I wanted to teach Dorothea again!"

At his other side, Hanneman sighs. "You weren't even planning to pretend that I had a choice in the matter, would you, Manuela? Well, it's fine by me. I wanted to teach the Golden Deer either way." His eyes twinkle. "Their Crests are most interesting..."

Byleth glances back to Rhea to see her smiling, in her distant sort of way. "Your heart has made its choice, then. All I ask is that you guide these open minds with virtue, care, and sincerity." She's looking Byleth directly in the eyes as she says this. It's eerie to have all of her attention on him, but Byleth does not show it.

Seteth's frown deepens. "They are all promising youths who bear the weight of Fódlan's future upon their shoulders. I hope you appreciate what an honor it is to lead them." He too, stares Byleth down with an intensity that Byleth cannot cower from.

Footsteps. "Brother?" From the back of the room, Flayn emerges, a skip in her step. She takes one look at him, glances away, then immediately turns to look at Byleth once more. "Pardon- pardon me, sir, but your hair, and your eyes..." 

Unconsciously, Byleth lifts a hand to the pale green hair that now crowned his head. 

Seteth clears his throat, and Flayn immediately clears her own. She won't look away from Byleth, however. "I am so sincerely sorry," Flayn continues, eyes still on Byleth's face. "I did not mean to interrupt. Pardon my rudeness, but... Who is this?"

"This is our newest professor at the academy... Flayn, did you require something of me?" 

Flayn's eyes widen. "Oh my! A new addition to the Officer's Academy! I am so very pleased to meet you, Professor..."

There's a pause before Sothis flicks him gently, at the back of his mind. "Byleth," he responds. "Byleth Eisner."

"I am Seteth's little sister, Flayn! I am so happy to make your acquaintance!" Flayn stares at him once more, and Byleth nearly frowns.

"What is with all these people and _staring,_" Sothis demands, sounding aggrieved. "It's making me uncomfortable too..."

"Have we met somewhere before?" Flayn asks, and Byleth's cool facade almost crumbles. "You have quite the discerning hair and eye colour!"

_We have met,_ Byleth thinks to himself. _I remember you asking me to fish something for you, and that turned into fishing together every so often. I remember your defiant look when you convinced Seteth to join my class. I remember you laying fresh flowers on your mother's grave. I remember being forced to taste test your creations in the mess hall. I know your sorrows, your worries, your secrets. I remember the way your hands shook as I called on you to fight in the battle against Edelgard. I remember you._

"I don't think we've ever met," Byleth replies instead. 

Flayn frowns. "Are you sure? You seem so..."

Seteth clears his throat once more to get everyone's attention back on him. "Flayn. If there's nothing too pressing, then let us focus on the topic at hand. There is something you should be aware of."

He then goes on to explain the mock battle between the three houses in a few days time, and how Byleth specifically should not disappoint the Archbishop. Byleth tries not to cringe at the idea of everyone fighting each other again. 

When he finally excuses them, Manuela and Hanneman slide up to him, looking eager. "So," Manuela asks, "where are you from, handsome? Those green features of yours are striking."

Hanneman yanks Byleth out of her grasp. "Please do not scare off the new professor with your wiles, Manuela. I would like to see if he has a Crest, before you whisk him away."

Manuela rolls her eyes and yanks Byleth back. Byleth feels distinctly like a doll being fought over by two rowdy children. "Please, no one cares about your dusty old Crest research. You can steal him away after I get to know him better."

"What did you say? I'll have you know that-"

This is commonplace in the Academy, so Byleth uses their bickering to sneak out of the audience chamber. 

Sothis is humming. "Odd. I don't remember them saying anything like this before. Perhaps you are not the only one who has changed. Was any of your actions significantly different compared to last time?"

_Edelgard was wounded,_ Byleth thought back. _But why would that affect whatever Manuela, Hanneman and Flayn would say?_

Another hum. "Perhaps they are not the anomaly. The anomaly is **you.**"

Byleth nearly missed a step at Sothis' ominous words. It was odd. His hair was the pale green it'd been when he had fused with Sothis. He had been able to heal, a skill he'd only learned a few months after he had joined the Academy. Byleth wondered if anything else had changed greatly.

He stepped outside the audience chamber and was immediately ambushed by two familiar faces. "Finally," Claude said. "We were waiting _forever._ What did Rhea even want from you?"

"Don't be rude, Claude." Dimitri stepped up behind him, a frown on his face. "He doesn't need to tell you everything that you want to know."

The sight of these two boys standing in front of Byleth was a shock. Even Sothis seemed to stop in her tracks at the sight of them. "That didn't happen last time," Sothis hissed. "What in the world are they doing here?"

Byleth blinks. "What brings you here?"

Dimitri smiles at him. For some reason only now does Byleth realize that Dimitri has dimples. This information is shocking. Perhaps only here did Dimitri possess them? Or did Byleth not notice before? "We did have plans to share a meal together, did we not? We've come to collect you."

As if on cue, Byleth's stomach rumbles at the mention of food. Claude laughs. "Here, let's show you the way."

Byleth allows himself to be led as if he's never been here before. They share a companionable silence the entire way there.

"Ah," Dimitri says, when they finally reach the dining hall. "Luckily for you, Byleth, they've got bourgeois pike on the menu today." He swiftly orders three and they sit at the closest table. Byleth is still very confused at this turn of events. And at the use of his proper name.

"Lucky for us," Claude corrects. "I love that dish, and I am starving!" He digs in with vigour, and Byleth does the same after one sniff of the meal. It tastes just as wonderful as he remembers. During the war, Byleth was not allowed to be picky with his meals, and just ate whatever the dining hall could afford to feed him and the army. He hums around a bite of fish, luxuriating in the subtle spice, and the tenderness of the fish. It's incredible.

In front of him, Dimitri is smiling pleasantly, fork lifted to his mouth. He seems to be staring. Byleth raises his eyebrows, and Dimitri glances away before looking back at him. "Ah, I am full just watching other people eat," Dimitri says, finally pushing the food past his lips. Byleth's mind quickly brings up memories of a future past, of Byleth trying to teach Flayn to cook. For some reason their conversation flowed to talk about their fellow soldiers, including Dimitri. Flayn had told Byleth before, a hush in her voice, that Dimitri could not taste a single thing. Such information had haunted him for the rest of the night.

The extravagant pike in Byleth's mouth now tastes extremely bland, but he forces himself to swallow and pick up a fork full of vegetables.

"What are you going to teach here?" Dimitri asks, once he is done chewing. "I heard you got a teaching position."

Byleth's mouth straightens into a line. He's still chewing.

"Ah, you're still eating. Then allow me to guess." Dimitri puts a hand to his chin. "Swordsmanship? With your skills, it's quite likely."

"Isn't Jeritza or whatever that guy's name is teaching that already? I guess we can have more than one swordsmanship teacher. Maybe he'll teach a class instead so you can take over his position." Claude adds, looking thoughtful.

"Jeritza doesn't speak much, though." Dimitri counters. "Can he really lecture a class? Byleth, what do you think?"

"I've never met him," Byleth lies.

Ah, Jeritza. Byleth has no idea if he's even met him, what with his odd stupor when he first re-entered the Academy, but Byleth has a strange desire to rip off his mask and demand answers for all that he has done.

"We should stab him," Sothis says. "Go right now."

_We cannot just stab people without a plan,_ Byleth hurriedly thinks back. Sothis huffs.

"And why ever not?"

Byleth is about to explain why stomping up to Jeritza and running him through with his sword is a terrible idea, but then the bells suddenly ring, marking it as afternoon. Dimitri and Claude startle at the sound. "Ah, that reminds me! We're supposed to meet our teachers now! Forgive me, but I've got to go!" Dimitri stands from the table, picking up his cleared plate as well as Byleth's, handing them to the dining hall workers before hurrying out the door.

"Me too," Claude says quickly, shoveling the rest of his food in his mouth and doing the same. "Gotta go bye!"

Byleth feels distinctly as if he's been hit by a whirlwind. 

"That was so odd," Sothis murmurs. "That did not happen last time. I was right! You are an anomaly! Why does it feel as if you've already bonded with them? And didn't you go and meet their class directly last time?"

_Maybe it wasn't just my hair and skills that have transferred over._

He can feel Sothis' grin. "This is so interesting. What else has changed? What has stayed the same? Well, hurry along then. Go meet up with your students."

Byleth, as always, feels strung up in everyone else's pace.

.

When Byleth pushes the door of the Blue Lions' classroom open, eight very familiar people stand from their seats and stare at Byleth with wide eyes.

"Wait!" Annette squeaks. "Does this mean our new Professor is... No, I really can't believe it! But I was speaking to you so casually, as though we were companions!"

Byleth is about to interject, when Annette barrels on. "Oh, I am so sorry Professor! You look the same age as the rest of us, and... Oh, and I'm sorry I just said that too! I really must watch my tongue..."

Annette resembles a kicked puppy, so Byleth hurries to console her. "I don't mind if you treat me as a friend."

"You say that," Annette replies, "but... I just don't know about all of this!"

"I'll admit, it doesn't sit well with me either!" Dimitri spoke. "I was too forward... I accidentally called you By- your name! I'm sorry that I was so disrespectful!"

Sylvain butts in with a cheeky grin and a whistle. "So forward, Your Highness." Dimitri swats at him, and Sylvain steps away to dodge, laughing. "It's fine, isn't it? If the professor says it's okay, and if you consent, it's all fine if we're less formal! We're already speaking this way to our future king, so we might as well, right?"

"Well," Dimitri begins, looking contemplative. "We're not in the Kingdom, so it only goes to follow that we should all speak companionably..."

Sylvain jabs him playfully with an elbow. "You also hate being called Your Highness, right?"

"Sylvain!" Dimitri complains, put out. "Fine. I concede. If the professor says it's fine, we ought to accept that kindness gratefully."

Ingrid shifts nervously in the back. "I'm not sure that I can manage that... It's too weird for me to not show authority figures due respect!"

"You don't have to force yourself if it's too difficult," Mercedes says. "You're fine with that too, right professor?"

Byleth nods, swept up in their pace once more. He feels comfortable in the usual banter of the Blue Lions. 

"You're too good to us, professor," Sylvain winks. And uh oh, Byleth knows what's coming. "If you were a girl I would ask you out right away. Actually, you know what, I'm gonna do that anyway. Let's go for tea!"

Felix huffs. "Control yourself, Sylvain. I have more important matters to discuss with our professor. Come to the training grounds later. There, you will show me what you're capable of."

Byleth doesn't even think as the next words leave his lips. "Okay. Actually, if you all don't have anything planned, shall we go now?"

Sothis nods in approval. "I see what you are doing! You're going to appraise them and see if they have changed as well!"

Byleth hums quietly back in approval, as the Blue Lions stare. "You two aren't wasting time, are you? Count me in for any such battle!" Dimitri agrees, shoulders squaring at the proposal of sparring.

"Pardon me," Ashe interrupts, "but I would also love to train with you! Oh, only if that's okay!"

Dimitri smiles again and once more Byleth is shocked by his dimples. Byleth probably does not remember them due to the more prominent image of a scarred, angry Dima who forced nearly all of his smiles. 

"Perhaps this Dimitri is different," Sothis says, and Byleth can almost see her narrow her eyes. "...no. There is still a shadow that follows him around. All of these kids have still suffered greatly."

Byleth almost sighs. If he were to change one thing, it'd be the fact that all of these students have had terrible traumatic experiences. Too bad his divine pulse did not send him back too far.

"Yes," Dimitri announces, "let us all train together!"

Mercedes giggles. "Wow, everyone's so excited! Even Dedue looks happier!" Byleth looks at him. There is a slight smile on his face, and it makes Byleth want to grin in response. He too, was likely infected by Dimitri's happy air. "If you get injured, simply say the word and I'll patch you up straight away!

"Your highness," Dedue immediately says. "Please do take care not to go overboard."

Byleth tilts his head to the side. "I want to spar with all of you. If that's alright. I won't force you to," Byleth would never wish a forced world of fighting on them, ever, "but I would like to see where your skills are at prior to the mock battle."

Mercedes' face falls slightly. "I'm not skilled with weapons, I only know reason and faith skills as of right now."

"That's alright," Byleth responds. "I know some magic too. We can spar like that."

"Ah, you know magic?" Annette perks up. "I can use magic too, as well as the axe! I went to the school of sorcery before!"

Felix seems to vibrate from where he's standing. "Hurry up, let's go. I want to spar already!"

At this, Sylvain laughs. "You're excited, aren't you? But isn't it wrong that we bond over crossing blades rather than something else? Like talking?"

"Huh, I never thought of it that way. Well, if that's how you feel, I suppose you'll just stay behind while the rest of us are at the training ground?" Ingrid teases, mouth fighting a smile. 

Sylvain shakes his head. "Ingrid, my dearest friend! You really are too harsh on me!"

Felix is already at the door. "Come on already! We've talked too much! I will defeat the professor first!"

.

Felix hits the floor in under five minutes, training sword to his throat. 

The Blue Lions are giving a stunned round of applause at the sight. Scowling, Felix picks himself up off the ground, but is looking at Byleth in a wide eyed sort of way.

"I told you that Byleth- ah, the professor, was strong!" Dimitri is announcing to Ingrid, eyes shining. 

Byleth huffs. He wasn't expecting Felix to be anything like the dancer he was in the future, speed and dexterity out classing most of their enemies, but he wasn't disappointed in the slightest. "You're too arrogant," Byleth begins, and is sort of stunned when the Blue Lions fall silent to listen. "I bet you're not very good with Authority."

Felix's frown gets deeper, but he's listening intently. Byleth knows that he responds better to criticism rather than praise, after all. "If you always try to strike first, your enemies will notice, right? You've got the basics down pat. You're quite talented, I can see that for sure. But you had no intention of using all of the space the training ground provided and your parrying needs work. But still, very good job. I can see you've been training a long time."

The students are staring. Again. "I know that we just met," Sylvain says, slow and languid. "But I think this is the most that I've ever heard you speak."

Byleth has no idea what to say to that, so he doesn't say anything at all, and waits patiently for Felix to regain his composure.

After a moment that Felix uses to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, he speaks. "Again. I'll get you this time."

"No, no." Dimitri stands from where he's sitting on the bench. "My turn next! Shall we fight with swords, professor?" 

Ingrid drags Felix to the bench while Dimitri examines the rack of weapons. "No. Use what you think is your best weapon, and I'll use the same." Byleth found himself saying, as if he didn't know that Dimitri practically grew up wielding a lance, and that his hero's relic was a indeed a lance.

Hearing this, Dimitri obediently picks up a training lance, and so Byleth steps over to the rack to pick up their own. Byleth wasn't as good as Dima was, but this was not Dima. This was a younger Dimitri, who did not brace their weight on Areadbar and did not sleep with it within arm's reach. Dima wielded his lance as if hundreds of others insisted he did. This Dimitri, though still haunted by these ghosts, did not yet wield a weapon as if it anchored him to existence. 

Byleth hoped this Dimitri never had to. 

"If you fall to the ground, lose your weapon, surrender, or leave the designated area, you lose! Three clean hits and you win! On three," Ashe said, when they were on opposite sides of the training field. "One, two, three, begin!"

At this point, Dima would charge forward. But not this Dimitri. Aware of his professor's words, he would simply circle Byleth for now, evaluating his steps. Unfortunately, Byleth had no intention of letting Dimitri do such a thing. 

With five long, quick steps, Byleth crosses the field and whips their lance out at Dimitri's chest like an extension of his arm. He is careful to not jab Dimitri with the point of the lance, but does not treat him delicately- the firm rod of the spear hits the side of his torso and Dimitri stumbles back.

"One!" Ashe calls. Byleth thinks it's Ashe. He can't focus on anything save the battle right now. 

Dimitri does not back down, even though Byleth made sure to hit him hard. He charges Byleth, ducking under Byleth's second swing and trying to jab at Byleth's arm. Probably trying to disarm him. Two could play at that game. Spinning to avoid, Byleth uses the momentum to sidle up closer to Dimitri space, too close for Dimitri to make a wider swing to knock him off balance, and jabs the butt of his lance into the base of Dimitri's.

Dimitri does not drop the lance. It seems as if Byleth's underestimated his strength too much. Even at a young age, Dimitri was obviously strong. The royal family of Faerghus was all blessed with such strength, after all, and he held onto the lance tightly.

He surprises Byleth by immediately retaliating and trying to jab Byleth with the butt of his lance. Byleth dodges, but it's a near thing. The base of the lance brushes Byleth's arm. He is faster than Byleth has been expecting, and stronger too. If that hit would have connected Byleth knew for a fact that it would have bruised.

Really, Byleth shouldn't underestimate Dimitri, no matter the age. 

Byleth steps away from a wider swing, then moves back in, ducks under another, and jabs Dimitri in the abdomen with the hilt of the lance. Dimitri bites back a huff, and tries to counter immediately, but is blocked by Byleth's lance.

"Two!" Ashe announces, sounding a tad more excited. 

"You're quite strong, professor," Dimitri comments, a little grin pulling at his lips now. Byleth is suddenly reminded of how much Dimitri enjoyed sparring before the war. He was much like Felix in this way- excited at the idea of strong opponents.

"Did you expect me to be weak?" Byleth counters, stepping up into the range of Dimitri's lance once more. Dimitri's swings become more calculated, extensions of his arm and back muscles rather than mindless. His eyes narrow the more Byleth practically dances out of the way.

"Of course not," Dimitri insisted, looking quite sheepish for someone swinging a lance around his head. "But I am still in awe of how many weapons you seem to have mastered."

Byleth felt as if he was cheating. As of right now, his lance skills were more polished than Dimitri's. Dimitri was fluid, but too textbook. It was clear that he honed these skills more on the training grounds rather than in actual battle.

These were skills he had yet to technically learn, so Byleth really did feel slightly cheap.

Only a little, though.

Byleth liked the feeling of winning more than most things in this world. He was practically raised on the battlefield, after all.

So with the taste of victory on his lips, Byleth runs directly up to Dimitri, dragging the base of his lance across the ground as he goes, bringing up a cloud of smoke that temporarily blinds Dimitri, who coughs at the surprise. Byleth taps him gently on the torso with the lance, then knocks the lance out of Dimitri's hands. "I win," Byleth says. 

"Three!" Ashe announces, and Byleth finally turns to look at him. "The professor wins!" 

Ashe and the rest of the class are quite literally on the edge of their seats, save Felix and Dedue, who are standing. Felix looks quite impatient, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"You're quite skilled and strong with the lance," Byleth says, voice quiet. "Although you tried to analyze me, as soon as I rushed you, you stopped and then went on to charging. You shouldn't stop analyzing your opponent, ever. You also should use more of your body in your attacks. Guide the lance with your footwork alongside your arms. Treat it like an extension of yourself."

When Dimitri finally blinks the dust out of his eyes, he grants Byleth an eager grin. "That was incredible," he remarks, running a hand through his hair. "I want to spar again." 

Mercedes is already out of her seat, waving a heal over Dimitri's body. When she's satisfied with the work she's done, she nods and Dedue urges Dimitri to sit back down, ignoring his protests. 

Ingrid stands from her seat. "Ah, it's my turn next, your highness!"

.

When Byleth's finally sparred with all of the Blue Lions, the sun is bleeding out into the horizon. He's made some observations.

First, despite how young they are, he really should not underestimate them. Dedue had gotten a particular look in his eye that meant he was about to hit harder than usual, and Byleth had to scramble out of the way. Higher skills aside, it would still really hurt if he was hit.

Second, while some skills were not at all polished, it was clear that some of his students possessed skills that they did not before. When Ingrid had assumed a position that meant she was about to hit Byleth with a tempest lance, Byleth was almost too shocked to parry at the last moment. Thankfully, his strength as well as the lance held firm. Mercedes had even pulled out a Bolganone at the last minute, which Byleth had failed to counter. He still won, but he was pleasantly surprised, and very proud.

It was clear to Byleth that some things were different, yet some things were the same. Byleth had no idea why. Even Sothis was drawing a blank.

What was most odd was how the Blue Lions immediately accepted Byleth into the fold. Byleth distinctly remembers feeling awkward in front of his students before, how Byleth felt nervous about even speaking with any of them. How they seemed to be nervous around him as well. But they were engaging in conversation with him during the spars and in between breaks. It wasn't that Byleth disliked it, it's just that it was... odd.

"Byleth," someone called, as the Blue Lions were putting the weapons away. The chatter of the students instantly stops at the sound. Byleth turned to see his father stepping out of the door.

"Father," Byleth replies, putting his weapon away on the racks, before crossing the hall to meet him. It's still a shock to see him. Byleth feels as if he has to quickly run to his side, lest his father disappear right in front of him.

Jeralt glances over the hall before eyeing Byleth oddly. "Are you done training? I have to speak with you."

Byleth turns to look at his students, who have already put away all the training equipment. "Don't worry," Dimitri calls out. "We've taken care of everything. Go and speak to Captain Jeralt!"

"Okay," Jeralt says, gruff. "See, your little pupils have got everything under control. Let's go."

With one quick glance back to his students, Byleth follows his father back to his quarters.

.

Once the door shuts on them, Jeralt sits down on Byleth's bed. For some reason, they're here, instead of Jeralt's own quarters. Byleth doesn't question it. He's just happy that he can question his father now, too. Sothis is practically vibrating in excitement at the back of his mind.

Jeralt sighs, long and deep. "So, kid. Mind telling me why your hair is suddenly looking a hell of a lot like Rhea's?"

"Oh." Sothis says, voice soft. "Oh, that's interesting."

Byleth's mind blanks. What in the world was he supposed to say to that?

"Communication is important," Sothis whispers, almost a croon. "Open up a little! Communication is important, especially between loved ones! A lack of communication is potentially lethal, after all. We've seen that first hand. Now. Communicate!"

Byleth takes a deep, deep breath and attempts to banish a certain rainy day from his mind.

"I'm from the future."

Sothis slaps the back of his head. "Not like that, you absolute fool! Use your Divine Pulse! Now!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO FROM NOW ON IN THE END NOTES IM GONNA TRY AND INCLUDE BYLETH'S SUPPORT RANKS BECAUSE I THINK THEY'RE IMPORTANT- AS WELL AS SOME RANKS OF THE OTHER CHARACTERS. 
> 
> i would also like to make a comment- this is technically byleth's ng+, if you were confused at his skills, his easy bonding, the skills of his students. i would also like to add 'support conversations' between characters that do not have them in the game, as well as ones i want to deepen or rewrite. without further ado
> 
> byleth/dimitri C rank  
byleth/dedue C rank  
byleth/felix C rank  
byleth/annette C rank  
byleth/ingrid C rank  
byleth/sylvain C rank  
byleth/mercedes C rank  
byleth/ashe C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank (cmon, he is dad)  
byleth/claude ??? rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea ??? rank
> 
> thank you so much for reading!


	3. blood of the covenant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT I KNOW.... IM ALSO SURPRISED AT HOW FAST I UPDATED THIS LOL LIKE WHAT THE FUCK... BITCH WHAT THE FUCK????? 
> 
> thank you so much for your support aah! it really means so so much. god like holy fuck y'all i swear i would not be writing this without your love and support. thank you. ♡

Byleth is hit with the sudden realization that life-changing statements should be said with a certain grace and poise to them, qualities that Byleth knows that he has never once possessed.

Jeralt's face is stoic, as always, but he gains the sort of look that never failed to make Byleth seem like more of a child. That look alone convinces him- he has to use a Divine Pulse now.

As usual, it's absolutely horrid.

If the sudden vertigo, endless pulsating, and relentless pounding alongside a vision filling with stars was anything like what having a real heart was like Byleth wanted absolutely nothing to do with that. The Pulse is quick. It always is- but the more Byleth uses it the more Byleth feels sick to his stomach.

When it's over, Sothis finally relaxes, and gently floats down from where she was levitating in favor of leaning on Byleth's back. There's no real weight there- but a sort of pressure that Byleth is only aware of because he knows that she's there. "Phew." Sothis sighs, peeking from out behind him to stare at Jeralt, who has just now sat on the bed. "Okay, let's try that again. Good thing you've got thirteen of these a day."

Byleth steels himself to actually speak. It's his father, one of the only ones that he is comfortable speaking with, but such a unworldly topic makes his palms clammy. His father likely won't mock him, that's true.... But Byleth is worried that he won't be believed in at all.

At least his face will not betray how nervous he currently feels.

Jeralt gives him a once over. "Hey... Did you just...? What did you just do?"

Byleth's brow furrows slightly. That was new.

"You did something just now, didn't you?" Jeralt repeats, glancing at him with a curious expression. 

"No..." Byleth replies, but despite his own stoic tone it comes out like a question. "What do you mean, father?" 

Sothis is yanking at his sleeve like an impatient child. "No way- no way! Is your father aware of the Divine Pulses? What in the world does that mean?" 

Byleth ignores the yanking in favor of just staring back at his father, who sighs when he realizes that Byleth wasn't about to answer.

Jeralt runs a hand down his face. "Okay, maybe you'll open up a little once we get to talking. What happened to your hair?"

Sensing an opportunity, Byleth squares his shoulders, and takes a deep breath. "I'm from the future."

"Nooooooooo!" Sothis shrieks. "You absolute imbecile! This is why we used Divine Pulse again in the first place!"

_How else am I supposed to phrase it?_ Byleth thinks back furiously. _I don't think that there's a way to make me sound any less insane than I already do!_

Jeralt's giving him that look again, that look that makes him feel like he's a child again, being fussed over by Jeralt's healers, while Jeralt fumed silently in front of him. Even with his terrible memory, Byleth remembers some things. Byleth would sit on a log, heal spells washing over him, as his father would scold him for being so reckless. It didn't show on his face, but Byleth remembers that it really hurt- and that he really wanted a hug from his father. Luckily for him, his father could practically read his mind. 

It seems time did not change everything.

"You think I don't believe you," Jeralt begins, gruff. He picks at a string coming out of the blanket. Byleth almost gulps. "You know what? You're kind of right- I really don't. There's no such thing as being able to go back in time."

For some reason, that makes Byleth want to cry. He looks down at the floor, silently grateful for Sothis, who delicately slips her own hand into Byleth's.

"But at the same time, I do believe you."

His head shoots back up in record time, to see his father look deep in thought. "The first time I saw you cry was only just several hours ago. By the way, I didn't question you about the hair because you were crying. Of course I've already noticed by then. You, who I've tried to keep away from the Church, who are usually the only ones capable of Faith magic, are suddenly able to cast a heal spell. You spoke far too easily to those students, and again, your hair is _that_ colour. Am I missing anything?"

Sothis whistles. "I've totally underestimated your father, it seems."

"It should be impossible that you're from the future, or however you put it. But I- I am aware of what happened to you when you were born." Jeralt groans again. "Why is everything so complicated now? Suddenly, after over 20 years, we're back at the Church, and you've got Rhea's hair... I was hoping this talk wouldn't have to happen until much, much later."

Byleth crosses the room to sit down next to Jeralt on his bed. "Father," he begins, struggling to find the words. "Why- why don't I tell you first what I know, and then you tell me?"

Words are elusive to him. They do not come easy, not ever. He relies on his father to speak for him, and later on, the Blue Lions to fill in his gaps. Byleth's words are not his own. He is not a story teller, but he likes to think carefully over his own words- what would make the person he's saying them to more happy? What would they think about him after he's said them?

Byleth allows himself to be crass, for once. A babbling child could weave a better narrative, on top of that all, his memory is flawed. But he tells his father all that he remembers. 

Ashe's shocked face as Catherine draws her sword on Lonato. The way Sylvain could not lift his lance to fight his brother turned beast. Mock battles that foreshadowed real ones. The Death Knight. How Tomas was actually Solon. Crest stones, and their curse. Byleth curses Monica out under his breath, and he ignores the way his father almost laughs. He also ignores the way his father stares when Byleth tells him exactly what Monica has done. Edelgard's face behind the Flame Emperor's mask. The sickening crunch of Dimitri crushing the skull of an Imperial Soldier in one hand. A declaration. Fire. Five years of eternity. 

War.

Byleth doesn't realize that he's crying until his father wipes tears from his face with a gentle hand. Sothis is sitting next to him on the bed as well now, clinging to Byleth's arm. She says nothing. She knows his heart as if they were one, after all.

Jeralt waits for the quiet hiccup of Byleth's sobs to stop before he tells his own story. He does not stop to pity Byleth with empty words, and for that, Byleth is grateful.

"You look exactly like your mother," Jeralt sighs. "Not so much before, with the darker hair, but you had her features. Now, if you grew your hair out, you'd look almost exactly the same." Jeralt runs a finger down the ring he had once left Byleth, a lifetime ago. Byleth cannot help but watch the motion.

"I had once been on the verge of death," his father says, gaze unsteady. Byleth gripped his hand tight- it looked as if Jeralt was going to float away with his reminiscences. "Rhea saved me. She gave me some of her blood, and miraculously, I lived. Thinking back on it now, she could have just healed me up. There was no need for her to use her blood- but I, just like your mother, and yourself, was just an experiment of sorts."

This makes Byleth sit up. Thankfully, Jeralt does not stop his story. He does not hear the odd noise that Sothis makes at the back of her throat, or feel the way her hands tighten around his arm.

"I don't know the full details of why she did it, or how," his father is saying, like Byleth's entire world isn't changing, "but she quite literally created your mother. Now, I have literally no idea why she did that. I still don't, even to this day. But then, I fell in love with her. The reason why I'm so good at reading you is because I had to learn to read her first."

Intrigued, Byleth leans in. 

"Her name was Sitri, and I swore that the heavens opened up when I first laid eyes on her. At first, she didn't smile, and didn't speak, especially to me. But she was a crazy incredible healer, and she smiled like her life always depended on it. To be honest, after the first impressions, I thought she was stuck up. All holier-than-thou because she wouldn't speak to anyone! But one day, I saw her knock the teeth outta this one bandit and immediately thought 'that's the one.'" His father chuckled, a smile tugging at his lips. Byleth felt himself smile just watching it happen.

Even in Byleth's past life, his father would never speak about his mother, save for the time they visited her grave. He wasn't too attached to the idea of her, and felt slightly bad about it- she had traded her own life for his, after all. Hearing these stories was an entirely new experience.

"Well, eventually we both fell in love. Nothing made me happier than seeing her smile. And when she became pregnant with you, she would smile every single day." Jeralt smiled even bigger, and it was so infectious that Byleth did the same. Sothis gasps from the side.

"I can see the resemblance now!" She exclaimed. "You've got the same smile! It's tiny, and you never see it- but it's charming all the same!"

Hearing that they had something in common, Byleth felt a little embarrassed, but happy at the same time. He had always been pestered with questions as to why he and Jeralt look nothing alike, but now Byleth knew that they shared at least one thing.

"She was smiling even when she told Rhea to prioritize your life above hers," Jeralt mutters, resentful. Before Byleth can flinch, his father sighs. "We both knew the risks of her pregnancy. And even now, over 20 years later, I know she would still make that choice. Heck, even I... Never mind. What's important is what came after."

Jeralt's face darkens. "To save your life, Rhea used you in an experiment as well. I'm not saying that I'm not grateful, really, kid. But Rhea kept going on an on about how you were her 'greatest success' and how happy she was that you turned out well. I knew something was wrong when you arrived and that you didn't cry. Even the healers were amazed. On top of that, you had no heart beat. No heart beat!"

Byleth knows the rest of the story, but he listens intently to the same words he'd trailed a thousand times over with his eyes leave his father's mouth. The fire Jeralt started to feign his death, the way he stole away in the night to escape the church.

There's a pause.

"I'm guessing that's why you were able to go back in time or something," Jeralt hisses. "Rhea. I bet you bear a Crest or something. Goddess knows how her blood's affected me..."

"So... what now?"

Jeralt chuckles. "What now? Kid, I should be asking you that. Aren't you from the future or something?"

Byleth gapes openly. "Y-you believe me...? Truly?"

"I may not believe that time travel is real," his father says, "But I believe in you. Always."

Byleth's heart is suddenly so, so so full. "I love you," Byleth says, overwhelmed with emotion. In both lifetimes, he thinks that this is the first time he's ever said such a thing. "I love you, dad."

"I mean, I know," Jeralt responds, which earns him a swat to the arm, "but it's really nice to hear it. I love you too, kid."

Sothis curls up against Byleth's arm, a smile on her face like a cat who had just won the cream. "Communication."

Jeralt clears his throat, an air of awkward happiness around him. "Right. Well. Should we just kill Edelgard, Jeritza, and Tomas now and then run off to Dagda or something?"

"Father!"

"See, your father agrees," Sothis croons, pleased. "We should just kill them and wipe our hands of it."

Jeralt is openly laughing now. "Alright. Almyra, then? We'll round up the mercenaries, kill everyone involved in the war and Crest experimentation, and then move countries."

Byleth huffs. "I don't think that it would be that simple."

"It could be," Sothis says, smirking wide. 

"Edelgard is still a princess. Without evidence as to why she's planning out this war, we'll probably die as soon as she hits the floor. And if we kill Jeritza or Tomas without any explanation, Rhea will probably have our heads."

Jeralt scoffs, but still considers the idea. "Not you, I don't think. She wouldn't kill you."

"She wouldn't?"

It's an honest question, but it makes the room go silent.

"...are you not able to travel back in time? Why not kill Tomas or Jeritza, and then see what happens?"

Both Byleth and Sothis shake their heads, even though Jeralt cannot see Sothis. "Guards will probably just take me away to be executed. I can't provide any reasoning for me to kill them. And the last time I traveled back more than a day, I died," Byleth replies, somber. "I have no idea how far back I can turn."

His father gives him a _look_ that Byleth pointedly ignores.

"We should do some research on that Crest of yours," Sothis says, fingers to her temples. "It would be more useful to know your limits before you go off and die again."

Jeralt groans. "Good Goddess, this is giving me a headache. But I can't imagine how it feels like for you. Going back in time as if a war didn't just flash before your eyes, like the last time you didn't see some of these people was before they died? Why you, of all people? Are you meant to do something specific?"

Sothis' fists ball up in her dress. 

"Okay," Jeralt says, standing and walking to Byleth's bulletin board. "First, we need to plot out a timeline to see what happens and see what we could potentially prevent before it occurs."

.

The sun is peeking through Byleth's window when they finally their diagram on Byleth's board. Byleth wants to curl up and sleep already. Good thing classes don't technically start for another day. After more time spent of Sothis yelling at Byleth to _just get it together and remember what happens already!_ they've come up with a semi-coherent timeline.

"First, the mission that Rhea sends you on is to take care of that bandit, Kostas, who you're sure was hired by the Flame Emperor, who is actually Edelgard." Jeralt states, sounding tired himself. "Instead of killing him, this time, you should kidnap him and bring him back to the monastery so we can question him directly in front of Rhea and maybe push the Flame Emperor to appear earlier."

Byleth nods. Sothis is already curled up, asleep on his bed. Goddess, he wishes that were him.

"Next is Lonato, your little pupil's adoptive father. We should find a way to not kill him this time either," Jeralt hums thoughtfully. "If we want to get rid of some of the church's influence we should make Lonato say his peace before anything goes down."

That makes Byleth wake up, a little. "Get rid of the church's influence?"

His father is shrugging, looking disheveled. "Or at the very least, Rhea. I'm not starting a war or anything. I just don't want her anywhere near you. I don't like her, and I don't trust her. She said that if she was gone, that you'd be in charge of the church? I don't think so. There's something odd about that."

Byleth stops to think for a moment. "I... also don't like the way that the church acts." He's spent many a sleepless night thinking of why Edelgard could possibly hate a woman- a religion so much, that'd she'd attempt to rule all of Fódlan for it and kill everyone in her way to achieve such a goal. Especially before the final battle, when Dima and Edelgard had that conversation. 

What was it that she had said?

_If after all of this you believe the weak will be weak, that is only because they are too used to relying on others instead of themselves._

Byleth really had to wonder what in the world Edelgard was on about when she had said that.

What determined weakness, anyway? Birth? Social status? A lack of mastery over weapons? Crests, and lack thereof?

If her goal was to remove the power from all those with high social status, then what exactly gave her the right to remain in charge and decide for everyone else?

At first, Byleth thought that she had simply desired Rhea's head, and to have her influence spread across the entirety of Fódlan. But that was proven wrong when they had received news that Rhea was being held captive by her. 

Byleth had several theories. One, that Rhea was being used as bait to lure them in. Two, the one that Byleth favored more now that he knew the truth of his birth- that they were using Rhea for her blood, for experimentation.

Experimentation of what, Byleth still had no clue. Likely had something to do with whatever the hell Edelgard transformed herself into in the final battle.

And, once all of Fódlan was Edelgard's, what would happen next? Did she really think that the weak would not still suffer under power? As long as there was still someone in charge, there would still be those beneath. Byleth may be only a mercenary, but he knew that much.

Byleth swallows his words. 

"I don't want to kill Lonato either," Byleth says. Ashe's face filled with tears won't leave his mind. "I don't want my students hurt. Is there a way we could possibly stop Catherine from coming with us, to further ensure that Lonato could live?"

The two men frown, deep in thought. His father scratches the back of his head roughly. "You know what? Let's take this one thing at a time. Mock battle, then Kostas."

Byleth nods. 

"I'll go and try some find some evidence on our suspects. In the mean time... Why don't you do the same? Pester Jeritza into having tea with you or something. I'm gonna sleep. That took forever." Jeralt pats Byleth on the head, and is about to leave before he stops in front of the door. "What should we do about this board?"

The board is covered in paper that had been roughly ripped out from Byleth's journal, pins sticking out from every piece. There's small doodles of some of Byleth's students with string connecting their pins and tacks. Edelgard is connected with a doodle of the Flame Emperor, a terrible picture of her terrible uncle, and Hubert. Similarly, a thin string connects both Mercedes and the Flame Emperor, with a question mark drawn above. The board is overflowing with such detail, it almost looks like art.

"No one ever comes in here," Byleth says, reluctant to take it down. "won't it be fine?"

His father sighs. "Kid, you don't know that for sure. I know your memory is terrible, so you won't remember all of it, but I'll remember. It would be safer to destroy it and keep it-" Jeralt taps his temples, "up here."

Byleth sighs, but eventually complies, sluggishly standing from his desk chair, ripping the paper down and setting it alight with a small Fire spell. His father nods in approval. 

"I'm going to sleep. You should too. Ah, and before I forget." Jeralt turns to Byleth, face more serious than ever. "If you really want to up and leave the monastery, just let me know. I'm serious. You are the most important person to me, here. I value your safety above everyone else's. Screw the war or whatever- all I want is to keep you safe."

With that, his father leaves the room, closing the door shut behind him. Once again, Byleth feels warm and fuzzy. It's a pleasant feeling.

Byleth lets out a huge yawn and walks over to his window to see the positioning of the sun. It's barely dawn. No one will be up for another three hours.

Byleth decides that it's the perfect time to head to the library. This way, he knows Tomas won't be there, and he won't have the sudden urge to shove his blade into Tomas' greasy throat.

He blinks. Where did that thought come from? It was so unlike him.

"Me."

Byleth jumps to see Sothis floating behind him, giggling slightly. "You and I are one, remember? I know your heart, and you know mine."

In response, Byleth frowns. "Ah, don't be like that," Sothis teases. "Let's hurry and head to the library so we can actually sleep. Your face may be clear of expression, but your eye bags say otherwise."

On that note, Byleth makes the most drowsy trek to the library ever, filled with awkward stumbling and eye rubs. It doesn't help that Sothis is yawning loudly next to him, and commenting on how soft and nice Byleth's pillows would be. 

Byleth has a fleeting thought about whacking Sothis with one and Sothis immediately flicks him between his brows.

Once he reaches the library, Byleth takes out every single book that looks like it'd be about Crests and wobbles over to a table, practically slamming the books down. They make a loud sound. Byleth doesn't know why he's surprised. 

"Ah. Do be more quiet, will you?"

Byleth's head shoots up. The voice is far too masculine to be Sothis, so he's quite surprised. He didn't notice anyone when he came in here, and Sothis didn't inform him. 

It's Linhardt. He's sitting across from him at the table, his own books open and strewn about the flat surface.

Byleth's sure they met yesterday, but the last true memory that Byleth possesses of him was meeting on the battlefield. They locked eyes, and Linhardt turned right around as if they hadn't seen each other. He doesn't know what happened to Linhardt after that battle, but he hopes that he was safe. Despite Linhardt not being in his class, Byleth was quite fond of him- his honest personality was quite endearing and whenever they were meant to tend to the greenhouse together, he either filled the silence or was content with a comfortable one. Sometimes they would sit next to each other and fish, content in the shared tranquility.

But that was a Linhardt of a different time.

"Sorry," Byleth mumbles, flipping open a book in favour of looking at him. He can barely read through his drowsy haze. 

He spends about five minutes staring at the same word on a page before Sothis smacks him on the back of his head. "Dummy. Why don't you just ask Linhardt? He researches Crests, right? At least, that's what I'm picking from your memory."

Byleth looks up from the book to see Linhardt already staring at him. 

"What do you know about Crests?" Byleth asks, before he loses the nerve. 

"Why do you want to know?" Linhardt asks, then adds, "professor."

"I didn't know anything about Crests before I came here," Byleth admits, and this too, is not really a lie. "Do you know something about them?"

He expects an arched brow or something of the sort, but Linhardt's eyes sparkle with fervent curiosity. "Really? There's no way that someone who lives in Fódlan doesn't know what Crests are! And yet, you don't seem to be lying..."

Linhardt reaches over the table to grab one of Byleth's books, and flips open the pages to reveal the Crest of Saint Cethleann. "This is the Crest that I possess. A minor Crest of Saint Cethleann. Ah, I'm getting ahead of myself. Crests are said to be blessings bestowed onto the people by the Goddess, granting those who wield them special powers, like a high aptitude for magic, or strength. They're inherited by blood, so many of the Crest bearers are nobles...."

Now usually, Byleth would be paying full attention, but his brain feels like mush after that all nighter trying to piece things together. 

"...do you know what the Crest of Flames is? Have you heard of a Crest like that?" Byleth asks, impatiently. Normally he would feel rude, but after a day of being violently thrown back in time he feels more tired than anything.

Linhardt does stop, then. "...I can't say that I have."

_Curses. Maybe I shouldn't have said that. Hanneman has yet to discover my Crest, anyway._

"You think?!" Sothis demands sarcastically, shrill in his ear. "Should we use a Divine Pulse? We cannot reveal too much of what we, at this time, technically do not know."

However, there's a particular look in Linhardt's eyes that makes him pause. "I'll look into it for you if you so desire," he says, even as he lunges across the table for Byleth's other books and flips open the pages furiously.

That's all the confirmation Byleth needs to pass out at the table.

.

In the few days before the mock battle, not that many things happen. Honestly, Byleth's surprised how easy he falls back into his professor routine. 

Dimitri asks him if he requires help with lectures, and Byleth waves him off with a hand and a thank you- and then proceeds to drill them all on what they all struggled with in the future. When Byleth notices their shocked expressions at his lectures he makes up a half-hearted excuse about how he was taught by and how he taught his fellow mercenaries like this. Byleth calls them up one by one. He is relentless yet merciful- once they seem like they cannot learn any more he sends them back to their desks. He knows what they're capable of, and what they can accomplish. At first, when Byleth began teaching, it was awkward because Byleth had honestly no idea what he was doing and he had no idea how to make the most of his time.

It's a different story now.

He makes sure to set their goals properly, eyes on a harsh future that he has no plans on making a reality- but it couldn't hurt to be prepared.

When the students walk back to their desks, they have this sort of starry eyed expression that cheers Byleth on.

It's Felix and Dedue who seem to struggle the most in the first class. Byleth knows that Felix has a hidden talent in Reason, so he makes sure that he is quizzed on that constantly, and that it remains one of his goals. Dedue struggles with horse riding, and honestly, any animal, but Byleth insists that he makes horseback riding one of his goals. Although Dedue could be a defensive wall, movement was important.

After two days of classes, Ingrid asks Byleth if he's really never taught any other class before. He says he hasn't. It's not a lie. He's only ever taught the Blue Lions.

Byleth also marches straight over to Ferdinand, whom Byleth also had last met on the battlefield and asks him about tea. Two hours of tea later, a delicate porcelain tea pot decorated in purple flowers is practically forced into his hands and Byleth is made to keep a promise to meet up for tea again.

He subtly high fives Sothis. Byleth's still got it.

What's difficult is inviting Jeritza to tea. 

Byleth has really no plans on making friends with him. He's got some connection with Mercedes, he's sure, but Byleth cannot help but see him and then see Remire Village up in flames behind him.

That won't stop Byleth, though. He's stomached enough interactions with Edelgard without being sick to his stomach. 

He's rejected time and time again. 

Byleth's undeterred. 

He has tea time with other students and staff instead, including a memorably awkward one with Cyril gushing over his hair colour and how it looked so similar to Rhea's.

Hanneman yanks him to his office to see if he's got a Crest. Of course, he does, and Hanneman kicks him out of his office just as quickly as he's shoved him in there. What's different about this particular event, however, is that as soon as Byleth walks out, Linhardt brushes past him to walk in.

Sothis and Byleth stare at each other before shrugging the entire event off. It could be harmless, and have no effect whatsoever, but only time would tell.

Another day.

The mock battle arrives.

.

The Blue Lions' mock battle team consists of Dimitri, Byleth, Annette, Ashe, and Felix. Byleth wondered if he should bring adjutants. He felt as though his students were skilled enough to handle them, but wondered if that was cheating. 

Then Byleth realized that he enjoyed winning, mock battle or not, and decided to do apply adjutants anyway. Felix got paired with Sylvain, because Byleth trusted that he would be capable from keeping Felix from running headstrong into battle from the get go. Ashe got paired with Dedue, so he could get follow up attacks in case his arrows were not enough. Dimitri was paired with Mercedes, because Dimitri apparently had a death wish, no matter the age, and liked taking on the full force of the attacks. Byleth decided to bench Ingrid for this battle, because she was a fast learner and pulling quickly ahead of their entire class in terms of skill and training.

Byleth took a deep breath.

It was only a mock battle. No one would die. Byleth's been in battle a million times. No one would fall. He was practically born and raised on them. Everyone was safe. Stepping onto a field is like coming home.

And yet, knowing what he knows, his hands won't stop shaking-

"Professor."

It's Dimitri.

"Dima- Dimitri." Byleth coughs around the nickname. "What is it?"

He's smiling, a soft, tiny smile. "Come on. The class is waiting for you!" Byleth allows himself to be led to where the class is waiting on their side of the field. 

When they're all gathered, Dimitri clears his throat and looks at Byleth with wide eyes. As much as Dima knew Byleth's cues, Byleth does not know the tells of a younger Dimitri, and just stares openly at him.

The moment drags on for a second too long, before Sylvain butts in. "Speech! Speech!"

"That's right," Dimitri says. "We'd like to hear some words of encouragement from you, professor. They'd really help a lot, and our morale would raise!"

Sothis laughs from where she's standing beside Byleth. "Aha! Don't you just hate speeches? Well, good luck!" She poofs back into the far reaches of his mind. Traitor.

It was Dima that usually gave speeches when he was capable of them, especially after they defeated Cornelia. Byleth would stand by his side and proudly watch as the king rallied the troops with inspiring lines and confident words- and then hold his hand as she shook behind the scenes, out of sight from all the soldiers. 

Dima would know what to say.

Even as he shook with fear, with self-loathing and pity, Dima would spin any sort of speech if it meant his troops would smile the night before battle.

Byleth does not.

He opens his mouth. Closes it. Then settles on what he knows. Either way, he could use Divine Pulse if the result was terrible and he accidentally dropped everyone's morale.

"I don't like to lose," Byleth says honestly.

There's a silence that makes Byleth want to crawl into a hole and never come out. Then Annette whoops. 

"I don't want to lose either!" Annette cheers, voice infectious. "I want to feast after the battle!"

"Losing would look terrible to the ladies," Sylvain is saying, as he dodges Felix's elbow. Felix too, has a slight quirk to the side of his mouth.

Byleth's quite surprised. He's only said one thing, and yet everyone's smiling and looking quite cheerful. He glances over to Dimitri to see a determined look in his eyes.

"I couldn't have said it better myself, professor," Dimitri grins. "I'm sure you're looking forward to the feast as well?"

A pause. Byleth gives him a look.

"Forgive me, I couldn't help but tease you, professor. It's just... Forgive me for saying this, but I think it's far too easy to tease you." Dimitri's eyes rove over Byleth's face, and his dimples become more prominent. "Ah, don't get mad! I apologize, really!"

There is a moment where all is still.

"Shall we destroy them?" 

There is no darkness hiding behind these words, but Byleth shudders anyway, blinking away the image of Dima crushing a man's skull in his hand.

Face blank, Byleth marches on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg next up is actual canon divergence LIKE ACTUALLY HOLY FUCK IM KINDA NERVOUS LOL
> 
> fun fuckin fact i actually had to look up how to spell linny's name because i always call him linny.... always..... im really dumb lmao
> 
> byleth/dimitri C rank  
byleth/dedue C rank  
byleth/felix C rank  
byleth/annette C rank  
byleth/ingrid C rank  
byleth/sylvain C rank  
byleth/mercedes C rank  
byleth/ashe C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank  
byleth/claude ??? rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea ??? rank  
byleth/linhardt ??? rank


	4. reverie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY Y'ALL 
> 
> HERE'S ALL MY LOVE AND AFFECTION CAUSE HOLY FUCKING SHIT Y'ALL ARE REALLY KIND AND SUPPORTIVE THE FUCK IM LOVE YOU... ESPECIALLY THE PEOPLE IN MY SERVER THAT JUST HEAR ME SCREAM ALL THE TIME THANK YOU ALL SO SO MUCH ♡♡♡
> 
> hm btw. if you haven't been to the holy tomb ng+ this chapter may be a lil confusing to you

Just like in Byleth's previous lifetime, the Blue Lions win the mock battle. 

It's quite odd, however. The students were all gung-ho and always charging on ahead, but would still listen adamantly to his instructions. They would defeat a classmate, and look to where Byleth was with wide, eager eyes, as if looking for- something. Or Byleth would try and step in, but one of the students would reposition themselves before the blow and steal Byleth's hit or parry a blow for him. Anytime anyone was actually scratched up, Mercedes or Annette would suddenly appear from thin air and heal them straight up before Byleth was even able to worry. Once, Felix broke formation and Sylvain immediately yanked him back into position. But that was the only anomaly, and Byleth had already accounted for it.

Byleth didn't even break a sweat.

It wasn't even that hard of a battle, but Byleth swore that he didn't even raise his sword. And when he did, he took great care not to harm the other students, aware that his skill far surpassed theirs at the moment. The shocked look on Hilda's face when Byleth had knocked out Lorenz in one blow was almost funny.

Almost.

He'd fought this battle before, and at the time, didn't think much of the tactics he'd used. But since Byleth was taking extra care to not make mistakes, he took careful steps in his strategy. He didn't even have to use any of his Divine Pulses, which was a relief.

A few days ago, he'd learned not to underestimate his students. But Byleth also had to learn not to overthink. During the war he would have to think about what the enemies would do, and how hard they would hit, and when. He learned to be wary of Edelgard's gambits, and so he was prepared for them. When Edelgard only came at them with a training axe, Byleth almost laughed out loud. Then he realized that most of them haven't learned gambits at this point in time, and forced himself to relax. He was waiting to see the gleam of Claude's hero relic, and braced himself for a potentially hit, only to feel extremely relieved when he only saw the gleam of a regular bow.

Still, he used tactics he was familiar with. Tactics Byleth employed like he was at war rather than in a mock battle, like it was five years in the future rather than in the past. Luckily, the Blue Lions could keep up, despite how much pressure he'd put on them. Maybe Byleth would give them a day off.

Goddess knows how much he would have loved to do that in the future.

Even the other professors were surprised.

After the battle, when the three leaders were shaking hands and making merry, Hanneman and Manuela pulled him aside on the walk back to the monastery, surprise evident in their expressions.

"I know you were a mercenary," Manuela whines, hanging off of Byleth's arm. "But you could have taken it easier on us! You and the kiddies really did a number on our class!"

Hanneman's got a hand to his chin, regarding Byleth with thinly veiled curiosity. "I wonder if your strategic talent has anything at all to do with your Crest!" It's more of an exclamation than a question. "I've got to add this to my notes..."

"No one cares about your dumb Crest research," Manuela snaps, then swoons dramatically against Byleth's arm. "Comfort me. I was almost bruised."

Hanneman rolls his eyes. "Never."

"I was asking professor Byleth, not you, so shove off, old man!"

"Old? We're almost-"

"Don't you _dare_ finish that sentence-"

Refusing to get swept up in their antics, Byleth steps away from them in favour of walking next to his father's horse, alongside his Jeralt's mercenaries. The students are all chattering behind them noisily. His father's mercenaries are all discussing the battle. It's oddly peaceful. No one is trying to kill anyone. No one is crawling over the rocks with their teeth to spill another's blood on the ground. 

"How did I do?" Byleth asks, soft. When he was growing up, and in the early months of his academic teaching, he'd only ever use the strategies taught to him by his father. This was probably- this _was_ the first time Jeralt's ever seen one of his strategies.

The chatter directly behind them hushes. Like most things, Byleth ignores it.

Jeralt is still looking straight ahead. "You've been working hard."

Four simple words are enough to lift Byleth's spirits. 

His father's mercenaries are snickering. "Hey, captain, can't you look your kid in the eye when you compliment him?"

"Shaddup," Jeralt scolds, leaning off his horse slightly to punch the loose-lipped mercenary on the arm. The man dodges, laughing. 

"Aw, Byleth is blushing," another one of them coos, slapping him on the back. 

Byleth reaches up to feel his face. It's still pleasantly cool as always, and doesn't betray him, unlike these guys. He levels the accuser with a glare, which makes all of the mercenaries laugh. 

This is nostalgic. When his father was killed in his previous life, he decided to pay all of his mercenaries handsomely as thanks for helping him all these years and then send them off to new employers. But they wouldn't leave. All of the mercenaries just looked him in the eye, and laughed, and demanded why they thought that Jeralt was the only one that they were loyal to. Most of them practically raised Byleth alongside Jeralt, growing up. 

It's been awhile since everyone has been together, merry on the road. He's rather grateful to them.

Byleth feels the corner of his mouth pull.

"A-are you smiling?! Are you smiling right now? Everyone look! Byleth is smiling!" 

Everyone turns to Byleth at once, including the Blue Lions, who look expectant. Byleth's face immediately falls. 

"I am not smiling," Byleth huffs. He hears Sylvain hurry and cover a laugh, so Byleth turns a stare on him that makes Sylvain freeze in place.

"Sylvain."

"Uh oh. Am I in trouble?"

Byleth makes him squirm underneath his gaze for another moment. He's well aware of how some people find his stare intimidating, because of the little emotion behind it. "Thank you for keeping Felix in line today. You used opportune times to cut in for a follow up attack. Nice work."

For some reason this makes Sylvain incredibly flustered. Usually, the boy was really good at covering up his fidgeting, but not under Byleth's watchful gaze. "Ah, no need to compliment me. I got it, I got it..."

"What about me, professor?" Ashe pipes up. His eyes are starry. "Any comments on my performance?"

Byleth puts a hand to his chin. "You're a very skilled archer. We never had to worry about follow up attacks, since you were always covering our backs. But make sure that you don't cut off any of our allies' attacks when you line up an arrow."

Despite the slight criticism, Ashe looks pleased. "Yes, of course! I'll remember that in the future!"

It feels as if Byleth's suddenly unleashed a wave, because he's bombarded with questions from well-meaning lion cubs.

"Professor, what about my healing? Anything that needs work?"

"What did you think about my footwork? What about my stance? I tried copying a technique you used with a lance-"

"I got stronger in that last battle. Duel me again as soon as we return."

Byleth sighs, but feels warm.

.

When they return, Byleth is immediately cornered by Dimitri and the Blue Lions, who insist that they all share a meal together. Of course, Byleth accepts. Victory meals tasted better compared to any other. They've got onion gratin soup, Garreg Mach meat pie, and saghert and cream on the menu for the feast. Byleth's stomach rumbles at the sight.

"We all worked hard today," Dimitri booms, once they've all got their meals and are sharing a table. He's got a goblet filled with water raised in toast. "Especially you, professor!" 

Byleth's already got a spoon of onion gratin lifted to his lips. "I didn't do anything," Byleth says, not looking at them. He's gazing longingly at the soup instead, and the golden crust of the meat pie. He's trying not to look directly at the dessert, lest he inhale it in one go. "In fact, I wasn't able to do anything."

He can't see it, but Byleth knows that Felix is rolling his eyes. "They just wanted to show off."

"I seriously don't want to hear that from you, Felix," Ingrid scolds, over her own protesting stomach. Byleth takes that opportunity to push the spoon past his lips, and good goddess, the gratin is incredible. The cheesy top is practically oozing with flavor, creamy and thick against the broth. It's incredibly full bodied, and Byleth immediately dives in for more. He's missed the taste of a full meal that wasn't watered down in favour of more helpings. During the war, Byleth always made sure that all of his students and that all of the refugees ate before he did, so having such a big portion to himself was a luxury. He hurriedly takes a bite of that crisp, golden meat pie and almost sighs. The filling is a delightful contrast against the the crust, and the little tomatoes peppered in only enhance the flavor.

"What are you talking about, professor?" Dimitri demands, sounding scandalized. "Your tactics and your experience gave us the edge and push we needed to win that fight! It was incredible, like we were all flowing as one!"

"Flatterer," Byleth retorts. The next words don't even seem to come from him. "So everytime you repositioned me so you could either take a hit meant for me, or steal a hit from me, that was part of my tactics as well? Was that, too, fluid?"

Dimitri flushes, and Byleth stops. 

_Sothis._

Sothis replies instantly. "Yes?"

_Half of those thoughts were not mine. You pushed them into me._

She huffs. "I want to chide them as well. Your Dima is quite reckless in all stages of life, is he not? Foolish boy."

_He is not_ **Dima.**

Byleth can feel her shrug. "He will be."

Byleth still remembers Dima's hand shoving him away in the Holy Tomb, then using it to crush a man's skull. He remembers being asked if Byleth was here to haunt him. Byleth remembers Dima talking to himself in the cathedral, as if his echoes would answer him.

_Not if I can help it._

Before Byleth can use a Divine Pulse to rewind this entire conversation, Dedue steps in. "The professor is correct. Your highness, no matter how much you desire to show off, your health and safety take top priority."

"Dedue, I was not showing off. It's just nice to show off what the professor has been teaching our class."

"Of course, your highness," Dedue says, but Byleth's known him long enough to read his face well.

_Bullshit!_

Of course, Dedue would never say such a thing, especially not to Dimitri, but the thought was hilarious.

"This is so good," Annette gasps dreamily, smiling around a bite of dessert despite the fact that she hasn't even touched the main course yet. 

Mercedes is giggling at her side. "I know you're excited, but you'll choke on your food if you eat that fast!"

"You haven't even touched the main course," Ashe laughs. "Isn't the saying 'save the best for last?'"

"That's right," Mercedes agrees. "You won't grow any bigger if you keep eating like this!"

In retaliation, Annette scoops a spoonful of the cream into Mercedes' mouth. "But it's so good," Annette insists. "And look at professor! They're practically inhaling their food- oh no! Was I too rude?"

Byleth, who had been busy shoveling as much of the gratin as possible into his mouth, looks back up at them when he's called. "What is it?" He asks them, around a mouthful of savoury pie.

For some reason, this makes the Blue Lions laugh, save for Dedue, who only quirks his lips. Even Dimitri lets out a tiny snicker, then instantly covers his mouth as if he's ashamed of it. At the sound, Sylvain and Ingrid smile wide.

The sound is striking in Byleth's ears. He wonders how many times he's heard Dimitri laugh in his last life. Or if Byleth's heard him laugh at all.

"Ah, Ingrid. You've got a twin in pigging out now," Sylvain teases. "I think the professor could actually beat your own appetite!"

Ingrid turns up her nose at him. "The professor and I just have great taste. Why don't you just mind your business and eat your food?"

"Why don't you stop stealing bites of my saghert?" Felix pipes up, picking up his own spoon and beginning to eat. Despite his words, he's got the tiniest grin.

This makes Ingrid flush. "You weren't eating it!"

"You should start eating too, Dedue," Ashe insists, nudging the boy sitting next to him. "Your soup will get cold. And it's pretty good soup! Not as good as yours, of course!"

Dedue takes that as his cue to tuck into his own meal, Ashe watching to confirm that he was eating, and then with a smile, continues eating his own meal.

It's been a long, long time since all of the Blue Lions have simply shared a meal, and Byleth feels very warm.

"I personally think a feast should be bigger," a voice says, snapping Byleth out of his reverie. Byleth looks up briefly from his meal to see Claude with a tray of food standing behind him. "Move over, won't you, professor? Let us in on the party!"

Byleth moves over slightly, even though the table the Blue Lions are sitting at is extremely long, with many seats still not filled. Claude immediately sits down next to him, and all of the Golden Deer follow behind, taking their own seats at the table. 

For some reason Byleth expects it to get awkward. And then he's suddenly very aware that these students have not yet fought with each other, in a real battle that would determine the fate of an entire nation. Everyone is chatting amiably. Ingrid is scolding Raphael's table manners. Ashe is trying to coax Marianne to look up from her food and join a conversation with he and Dedue. 

The world is spinning.

Byleth feels very alone.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Edelgard and the rest of the Black Eagles take their own seats at the table behind them. "Impressive work today, professor," Edelgard says, when their eyes meet head on. "It seems that your strength is not a fluke."

"With the way the professor worked in Remire village, how could you even doubt his skills, Edelgard?" Claude asks, voice hanging just on the cliff of a tease. 

"It's just fascinating to see him in action," Edelgard retorts, "it was like everyone in the field was swept up in your moves and your moves alone. Whenever I moved, it felt as if you had already accounted for where I would go and reacted accordingly."

"The professor is brilliant, I agree," Dimitri praises, looking just as pleased were he himself to receive the compliment. "I know we've discussed this before, but everyone did wonderfully today! I'm so glad that we had the privilege to learn with you all!"

Claude reaches over the table and in front of Byleth's food to swat Dimitri on the arm. Dimitri doesn't dodge. "I don't want to hear it from someone who won," Claude teases. "But seriously professor, despite the fact the Lions absolutely refused to let you fight anyone-"

A chorus of _hey!_ rung out from their table. Claude continued, undeterred. "-your tactics were incredible! I couldn't keep up! I know you're a mercenary and all, but wow, you showed absolutely no mercy to us!"

Byleth wiped his mouth with a napkin before responding. "I don't like to lose," Byleth said easily, repeating his 'speech' from earlier. For some reason this makes Claude laugh. Pushing his empty bowls aside, Byleth pulls the saghert and cream to him and stares at it reverently for a moment before digging in. Annette was right. It was amazing. Soft, melt in your mouth goodness... even Sothis was pleased when Byleth took a bite. It was just the right amount of sweetness to pair well with the other savoury dishes.

"I better not get on your bad side," Claude jokes. "Hey, is it too late to recruit you as our teacher?"

"Claude," Dimitri scolds, voice tinged with disappointment. 

"Kidding! I'm kidding, I'm kidding," Claude insists, and begins to eat his own meal. He pauses, and leans in to Byleth's ear. "Not kidding," he faux-whispers. 

"Claude! Stop that! Respect the professor's boundaries!"

"Okay, okay, I get it!"

.

Despite today's festivities, Byleth is still meant to go on patrol. It's late, and these days Byleth gets more tired easily, but he still walks the grounds. It's the same routine. The students' dorms, then the greenhouse, the dining hall, the school grounds, the pavilions and gazebos, the stables, training grounds, and then onto the second floor.

Byleth has walked this path many, many times and nothing has been odd. He ran into Lysithea once, but that was an entire lifetime ago. The only thing odd about the pavillions at night was seeing how empty they were. However, this time one of the gazebos was quite literally glowing. 

It's faint, but it's pulsating green, and the sight of it snaps Byleth to full attention. Sothis, who was trying to kick rocks as she walked alongside him, stopped as well. "Ah. Now what do we have here? Let's go check it out!"

Byleth is very, very aware that approaching glowing things in the middle of night usually spelled anger and suspicion, but Byleth had the bad habit of running into danger and then falling back on his Divine Pulses, so he heads over to the gazebo, back straight.

As he approaches, the glow pulses, and then fades out completely. 

"You should touch that orb thing," Sothis insists. "Look at the floor, it's got our crest. I only have good feelings about this." 

Byleth did not. But Sothis was a terrible enabler.

He touches the orb and waits to be blasted into the next life, but something more puzzling happens. The floor rumbles, and parts open to reveal a set of steps leading underground. 

It's incredibly dark. There's no light source, but with the guidance of the moon and the stars, Byleth can see the deep green of the walls and stairs, and the pitch dark of the tunnel that suggests a long, long walk into obscurity. There are torches pinned to the wall, but none are lit. The steep steps are uneven, and broken, as if worn down by time.

Sothis practically squeals when she sees it. "How exciting! Let's go already!"

He's about to protest but Sothis cuts him off before he can say anything. "Come on, come on now! I know your heart as if it were mine!" She laughs a little, because the irony of it all is striking. "You want to go too, mister mercenary. Adventure is your life blood! Ah, you should take a torch and light it with a fire spell. Well then!"

Sothis hops down the stairs, not intending to wait for Byleth in the slightest, and Byleth sighs before following, stumbling down the awkward flight of stairs and prying one of the torches off the wall. With a snap of his fingers, he lights it. 

The hall, though now touched by light, seems that much more ominous. 

Sothis smirks at him, and the shadows cast onto her face stretch out her smile. "After you," she says.

Shaking his head, Byleth steps out into the darkness. Unbeknownst to him, someone follows closely from behind.

.

The walk isn't that long, but the odd echo of footsteps makes the trek seem that much longer. Byleth isn't afraid of much, but the sounds are quite eerie. The torch casts flickering shadows of himself on the wall. What really gets to Byleth is the fact that Sothis does not cast a shadow. He refuses to think on it too long.

When Byleth and Sothis finally reach what seems to be the end of the hall, they're met with a shocking sight.

"The Holy Tomb?" Byleth demands, looking confused. He had no idea that the Tomb had any other entrance. When he went with Rhea, they had taken a special contraption hidden away in the cathedral, locked to prying eyes. When he was last here with Sothis, he was dead. Byleth had no idea that there were other ways in here. 

Sothis is staring at the tombs lining the path to the throne. For once, Byleth can feel her silence, as if it was a physical pressure pushing down on his chest.

They're facing the steps leading up to Sothis' throne, standing where the Flame Emperor was before she revealed herself. With the daunting amount of space between them and the steep stairs, Byleth feels distinctly wrong, as if he shouldn't be here at all. That he should turn back. That there's no purpose for him here.

"How curious," intones a voice. "I had no idea that there was a place such as this underneath the academy."

Byleth and Sothis both jump, Sothis to hide behind Byleth even though no one could see her, and Byleth draws his sword, tempered by years and years of fighting. 

Linhardt is standing behind him, a distinct frown on his face. "Ah, hello professor. I didn't mean to startle you. Could you please put away your sword now?"

Byleth blinks, then forces himself to sheath his blade. "What are you... doing here?" Byleth asks, quiet.

"I could ask you the same," Linhardt shoots back. "Well, I was just heading to the library, and I saw your crest flash, so naturally I had to follow. I didn't even notice that the gazebo bore your crest before today! How very exciting."

Thinking back, Byleth's footsteps were probably not echoing at all, rather, they were probably just Linhardt's. With a sigh, Byleth forces himself to relax.

"It's way past curfew," Byleth admonishes. "Head back to bed now."

Linhardt's eyes grow dramatically wide. "But professor," he says, the pitch of his voice raising. "I couldn't bear to go back knowing you might be in danger down here by yourself. Well, that settles it. I'm staying right here with you."

Sothis huffs, finally stepping out from behind Byleth. "What an odd boy. Alright. Time to use Divine Pulse."

"No, um," Byleth tries to compromise instead. He would rather not waste any Divine Pulses, and plus, the feeling is absolutely horrible... "Why don't we both go to bed?"

At this, Linhardt frantically shakes his head. "I am not sleepy. Are you?" With this, he turns and heads down the steps. Byleth is confused for a moment. Isn't that boy always tired? Sometimes, he would see Caspar literally drag him to class, Linhardt yawning the entire way.

Sothis reaches up and tugs at his ear. "Divine Pulse! Now!"

_It's fine, isn't it? I don't want to use it if I don't need to... My head always hurts after it._

Freeing his ear, Sothis folds her arms across her chest. "Fine. Fine! Just don't regret this later!" With that, she stomps down the stairs after Linhardt.

Without any enemies, the area really does feel like a tomb. The air is thin. The lighting is oppressive. It feels as if not a single living thing has touched this place in ages. There's green literally everywhere, and Byleth touches his own hair, self conscious. He follows them both down the steps.

Linhardt has already walked right up to a tomb, examining the sides. "It feels as if no one has been here in ages," his voice seems to echo, "yet there's no dust on anything. I'm certain that we were only able to enter from the gazebo because of you, but I see no visible crest symbols anywhere as of yet.... Very intriguing." 

For a moment, Linhardt turns to examine Byleth, then immediately turns back around.

"Can I open this, professor?" Linhardt asks, not looking at him. 

Sothis rolls her eyes. "Oh, now he's asking for your permission? How very rude!"

"Please don't," Byleth says hastily, aware that this place was a tomb. Linhardt sighs, but actually listens, stepping away from the casket.

"Everything here is green..." Linhardt says, after a moment. "The walls, the floor, the lights, the gazebo that let us in. Even you." Linhardt nods in the direction of his hair.

Byleth looks at him. "You too, you know. You've got green hair."

This makes Linhardt pause. "Yes, I do. And my crest is... hm. Interesting." Linhardt turns to Byleth with a tiny smile. "Thank you, professor. I'm discovering new things."

_What in the world did I do?_

The boy raises a hand to yawn into it, long and loud. "That staircase is quite intriguing. Shall we go check it out?"

Byleth gapes. "I thought you said you weren't tired?"

Linhardt waves him off with a hand. "You're imagining things. Well, come on. Let's go check it out." His gait, while sluggish, slows down even more once he realizes how steep the steps are. He looks at Byleth expectantly. 

"I am not carrying you," Byleth says, starting up the steps. 

"Wow, professor," Linhardt replies, shocked. "How did you know what I was thinking? Well, you are quite strong, we all saw that in the mock battle today. It could be practice for you?" When Byleth doesn't turn around, Linhardt sighs before joining him up the stairs.

Sothis floats up next to Byleth, shooting him a smirk. "It must be awful," she mocks. "Having to climb all these dreadful steps."

_You should mock that boy instead. I can hear him panting, he sounds like death and we're barely up the stairs._

With a sigh, Sothis frowns. "That boy cannot hear me, it is not that amusing."

Byleth really has no idea why Linhardt is panting so much. In reality, the climb barely took them a minute. 

However, the sight at the top of the stairs makes him lose any sort of breath. Sothis quite literally drops to the floor next to him.

Linhardt, who was not at all paying attention to Byleth in favour of looking at the floor, bumps into Byleth's back. "Professor, what-" he looks around his back, and his voice stops. "What in the world is _that?_"

Goddess if Byleth knows.

Because on the throne, where Sothis would usually sit, sat Byleth, asleep.

She sits there, slumped over in her seat, and Byleth already knew that she had no breath in her body. No heartbeat either, if he had to guess. 

It wasn't himself, actually, at a second glance. If Byleth was born a girl, this was probably exactly what he would look like. He had a gut feeling. Longer hair. Shorter. Softer face.

Her hair was too, pale green. The most eerie thing, however, was that she was dressed in an outfit Byleth himself would choose, if he would wear clothing directed towards girls. Everything about her was just screaming Byleth's likeness.

The floor around the throne is scattered with an assortment of various items. There's a particularly plump looking Zanado fruit, several rings, a shield, a sword. If Byleth didn't know any better, he would say that these were offerings-

"What in the hells is going on here?!" Sothis shrieked. "Is that- no, it can't be! Is that you, Byleth? What is that Rhea lady even doing?"

Byleth feels as if he's experiencing a Divine Pulse of sorts, nauseous, head spinning. What did one say, exactly, when face to face with their own likeness, as if crawled out of a mirror and given life?

Sothis is still shrill from somewhere behind him. "Oh no, that Rhea didn't. She- what is her goal? What is happening?!" 

Especially now that Byleth knew that he was essentially an experiment. 

That his mother too, was an experiment.

How many more people were like him...?

Was this person even like him?

What in the world was Byleth? What was he made for?

"...Do you perhaps have a twin?" Linhardt asks, voice still calm. Of course. Linhardt was not privy to Sothis' shrieking nor Byleth's mental breakdown. "Or do you know if you had cousins, anything of the sort?"

Like always, in situations of stress, Byleth chases his cool facade and forces it on. "I do not," Byleth says. He takes a step forward, then another, then another, until he's standing right in front of the throne. For some reason, he felt as if the world should have exploded the moment he approached.

Byleth checks for a pulse, and unsurprisingly, there is none. Next, he checks for breath. Nothing. Linhardt approaches behind him. "Are they dead?" 

Only years of mercenary work let the words pass through his lips. "There's no pulse," Byleth replies, unconsciously rubbing a thumb over where his own pulse point was meant to be. "They're not breathing either."

"So they're dead," Linhardt concludes. "Or maybe they weren't even alive to begin with. But what does this area have to do with you? Your crest let us in here..." He reaches a hand out to touch the body, but decides against it, yanking a hand back to his side. He settles on observing it with focused eyes.

Byleth shrugs, because what else can you do when you're presented with more questions than answers? Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sothis back further away from the throne, eyes dark.

_Sothis?_

Sothis doesn't look at him. "I am not touching that thing. I shouldn't touch that thing, actually."

_I never said you should. What's wrong?_

"How can you be so _calm?!_" Sothis snaps, finally looking at him. "What the hell is that thing? It looks as if it's never been alive. It looks like _you._"

_One of us has to be calm. It's alright, Sothis. I'm sure there's a reason for this._

At this thought, Sothis takes a few deep breaths. "We're leaving," Sothis decides, and this time, her tone leaves no room for argument. 

"Linhardt," Byleth calls out, soft. "That's enough. We're going now."

Surprisingly, Linhardt complies without a fuss. "Okay. I've got a lot of information anyway." His eyes shine. "Next time you come here, you must tell me."

"There won't be a next time!" Sothis shouts. She's already at the bottom of the stairs. 

"Oh, and," Linhardt waits for Byleth to look at him before he continues. "I won't tell anyone about this. You shouldn't either. I just have a feeling that it might turn out bad for all of us."

Byleth nods, but decides on telling Jeralt. Communication was important after all, and the more Byleth had to keep things to himself the more Byleth felt as if he would explode.

"We are never coming back here," Sothis hisses, clinging to Byleth's arm when he comes down the steps. "That was abhorrent." 

Byleth doesn't try to think about the fact that it was Sothis' idea, but it must slip, because Sothis yanks on his ear again. At the back of his mind, the part of Byleth that is all Sothis is swirling and changing, covered in a layer of fog.

.

_ A knock on his door._

_"Professor?" A familiar voice wafts in, from the other side of the wall. "I'm coming in, alright?"_

_Before Byleth can respond, Dima opens the door and steps inside. He closes the door firmly shut behind him. It's odd, seeing him inside Byleth's room- especially with that cape on, he dwarfs everything inside the room. When he had last invited him to tea, Dimitri had nearly knocked over the table with his leg. Byleth found it endlessly amusing. Dima did not._

_Byleth, who was writing in his journal, places his quill down and gives Dima his full attention. "Yes? What is it, Dimitri?"_

_Dima has to take a moment to compose himself. He looks distinctly like prey caught on the other side of an arrow. Almost as if he were not expecting Byleth to even be here. "What are your plans for after the war ends?" Dimitri asks, looking uncharacteristically nervous. _

_"I have no plans," Byleth says simply. "Rhea told me that I was meant to be in charge of the church, but I have no intention of doing so."_

_At this, Dimitri balks. "Wh-why not?"_

_Byleth leans back in his chair. "Isn't it odd? Leaving a person that's lived their entire life without knowing anything about the church in charge of it? And even if I was put in charge, the first thing I would do would be to separate religion and state, and then I would leave it all to Seteth. Why?"_

_"Separate religion and state?" Dimitri repeats, looking confused. Byleth nods._

_"Yes. I find it quite odd that the church can just behead anyone they want if they so much as believed that they were pointing their blade toward the heavens." Byleth hums a little. The topic is bitter, leaving his tongue. "Do you understand?"_

_Dimitri nods, and without any more prompting, sits on Byleth's bed. Byleth turns in his chair to look at him properly. "I understand," Dimitri answers. "I have also been at odds with the church and their decisions before. Like..." _

_He trails off. Byleth is about to prompt him again, but Dimitri opens his mouth before that can happen. "Like when you were first assigned to us as a teacher. I didn't know that you should actually teach us. You had no experience in teaching. You seemed lifeless, bored, as if you were driftwood, lost at sea. I didn't see you smile for weeks after we met." Dima flushes. "Ah, I guess that's not a good example. You became very dear to me in the end, anyway. I am never not grateful that you're still here with me- That's not the point. Ah, yes. When we were assigned to kill Lonato. That was one thing I hated myself for."_

_"I understand," Byleth says. _

_"And when we were sent to kill Miklan," Dimitri says quickly, as if he was timed. As if Dima could not get the words out quick enough. "And when those priests from the western church were executing without being heard out."_

_For a moment, Dimitri searches Byleth's gaze with an intensity so strong that Byleth almost has to turn away. "Am I wrong to think that we should have heard them out first?"_

_"Not at all," Byleth responds, voice hushed. "Not in the slightest." Byleth knows that he's not just thinking about their foes in Dima's school days._

_Dima runs a hand down his face. "How grim," he chides himself. "This wasn't at all what I came for. Your plans for the future. You have none, yes?"_

_Byleth nods._

_"Then-" Dimitri cuts himself off, turning a bright red. "Then, then! Would you be adverse to perhaps, staying in the Kingdom with me? With us. Yes, us. I meant us."_

_Dima takes a breath. "No, actually, I meant me."_

_Before Byleth can say anything, Dima barrels on. "There is no one I trust more to stay at my side. You, who has raised their blade for me time and time again, and guided my hands. You, who has taught me how to live once more. You scold me, praise me, keep me in line. You remind me that there is so, so much good in the world. Even your mere presence keeps my ghosts at bay. You could be my advisor, or the head of my knights, anything you desired, if you just stayed by my side. Those five years have made me a desperate, shallow man, and now that I am at your side again, I do not know how to live without."_

_Dimitri takes a deep breath. "I am a weak man. A terrible king. An awful person. Ever since the day that you and Rodrigue made me see the light of day, I grow ever more selfish. I want to be happy. I want to be a good person. I know I can be, eventually. I cannot imagine this happiness without you."_

_He stands from the bed and takes Byleth's hands in his own. For a moment, his finger glides over Byleth's ring, and lingers there. "Please," Dima says, his voice tiny. There's something in his voice that urges Byleth's heart to beat. "Please, just- consider it. My life is already yours. I know that I am unworthy, but... Would you consider making your future mine? There is no one else for me, p- Byleth."_

_Dima laughs, but it's shaky. "I'm really not selling this well, am I? I really am just desperate for you to look my way."_

_Throughout all this, his voice has become more steady, and his face more red. Dima is searching Byleth's soul with a single, piercing eye. He traces the ring with a single finger, then touches his forehead to Byleth's and closes his eye. "Consider it, please," Dima says, and before Byleth can respond, Dimitri is out the door, walking into the light. Byleth's hand reaches out for him, but he's already-_

_Byleth._

_Byleth!_

_Professor! _

Byleth feels awful, and groggy. He runs a hand down his face, yawning a little. He recognizes that voice, so he doesn't startle. "Dima...?" He asks, voice slow. "Five more minutes, Dima..."

"You idiot!" He hears Sothis shriek. "This isn't _your_ Dima! Get up!" 

Byleth blinks his eyes open to see a young Dimitri standing over his chair, looking worried. His face is flushing bright red at the proximity. "...You're not Dima," Byleth says, sleepy. And then shoots up from his reverie. "You're not Dima. Oh, my apologies everyone, I fell asleep at my desk. Forgive me."

Byleth distinctly remembers assigning them reading, being aware that he was tired from the day's events, and letting sleep take him. Goddess, he feels awful. Every single one of the Lions is looking at him with traces of worry.

"D-dima?" Dimitri repeats. "Ah, no worries, professor. We're just done with silent reading, so we thought that we should let you know... But you looked so peaceful, we didn't want to wake you." Aware that he's too close, he backs away, blushing a deeper red.

Mercedes is nodding. "That's right. You had the mock battle, then Seteth still made you go out on patrol... We felt bad, so we just let you rest for awhile."

Byleth's surprised that they actually worked in the time that he was asleep.

"Who's Dima?" Annette asks, then claps a hand over her mouth.

He yawns before responding. "Don't worry about it." Linhardt must be rubbing off on him.

"Must be someone important, if you're dreaming about them." Sylvain teases. He is immediately smacked on the arm by Ingrid. "Ow! Hey, it's true! Professor even mistook Dimitri for this Dima person!"

Sothis laughs. Byleth would too, if this entire situation was less insane to him. "Oh my, if only they knew!"

"They're both blond, I suppose," Byleth says. "No matter. I assume you're all done your reading? I apologize once again."

"Professor," Dedue chimes in, refusing to let the matter go. "You arrived incredibly late last night to your room, even if you were on patrol. Is everything alright?"

"Why were you up, Dedue?" Byleth shoots back, watching Dedue's mouth curl. 

"Professor, I am a light sleeper. You woke me when you returned. Please do not deflect. I- we are worried about you." Dedue retorts.

Immediately, Byleth feels ashamed. "Forgive me," Byleth says. "I am just really irritable these days, and taking it out on you."

Flashes of last night's events and Dima's trembling hands come to mind.

Dimitri clears his throat. He's still standing at the edge of Byleth's desk. "Is there anything that we can do to relieve your burdens?"

_Find a way to send me back to my Dima,_ Byleth thinks, and then hates himself for it. He needs to stop whining about this glorious chance. _Talk with Edelgard properly. Talk her out of this. Shake Rhea and demand answers. Do the same with Jeritza and the rest of the snakes lying low in the school._

"It's alright," Byleth says instead. "I can handle this."

Behind him, Sothis frowns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i swear to god this was meant to be the chapter where byleth faced kostas- and then it wasn't. it was also supposed to be longer because of a scene ill include next chapter BUT THEN IT GOT WILDLY LONG AND I WAS LIKE OKAY THAT'S COOL thank you so much for reading!
> 
> byleth/dimitri C rank  
byleth/dedue C rank  
byleth/felix C rank  
byleth/annette C rank  
byleth/ingrid C rank  
byleth/sylvain C rank  
byleth/mercedes C rank  
byleth/ashe C rank
> 
> byleth/linhardt C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/claude ??? rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea ??? rank


	5. lionheart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yoooooooooo man what the fuck. what the fuck man im so ♡♡♡♡ y'all are too good to me im screaming thank you for all this love
> 
> why is this chapter. so fucking long. what happened. why did i add so much. omg i hate myself

It seemed as if no matter the year, the passage of time would always be elusive to Byleth. One moment he would be napping and the next he would be delicately looked down on by Seteth. Honestly, it was quite amusing to see him so irritated. Byleth was quite fond of the man- he was strict and straight laced, but he was kind and protective over those he loves. So when Byleth was being subtly chewed out by him in front of Dimitri, he didn't zone him out entirely.

"As you have already been notified," Seteth spoke, an air of self importance around him, "your mission is to subdue some bandits. Our students have been learning about combat through study, but this is a precious opportunity to provide them with practical experience. The knights will support your mission and are prepared to offer their assistance if necessary. In short, this is no mock battle. You must- are you even listening to me?"

Byleth blinked back the call of sleep. 

"'M listening," Byleth murmurs, pointedly ignoring Dimitri's chuckles.

Seteth frowned. "This is not a game. The lives of these students are in your hands."

Behind Byleth's back, Sothis was giggling, a hand pressed to her mouth in an attempt to smother the giggles despite knowing that no one could hear. "What else is new?" She retorts, voice petulant.

"I understand," Byleth replies, trying to sound more awake. Seteth sighs.

Out of the corner of Byleth's eyes, he sees Dimitri's back straighten. "On the subject of lives," Dimitri begins, folding his arms across his chest. "The professor had just led a grueling mock battle, and yet you had still put him on patrol. What if someone had really attempted a siege on the academy? Lives can be lost from lack of rest just as easily as a blade. It was quite irresponsible of you to push him like this."

Now, Sothis, Seteth, and Byleth were staring at Dimitri openly. "What in the world has gotten into this one?" Sothis demands, looking surprised.

Seteth clears his throat. "Yes, well, I shall endeavor to remember this in the future." He sounded quite flustered. It was easy to dish out punishments to the average student in the academy, but not to the literal crown prince of an entire Kingdom. "But watch your tone, young man."

"I shall endeavor to remember this in the future," Dimitri retorts pleasantly, head cocking to one side. "Forgive my tone, Seteth."

Sothis bursts out into uproarious laughter as Seteth and Dimitri stare each other down. Byleth wants to crawl into a hole.

_Who taught you things like this?! Certainly not me!_

Seteth opens his mouth as if to say something, closes it, and then nods. "Excuse me," Seteth says, and then leaves the room. Sothis is wheezing, leaning onto Byleth's back for support. 

Dimitri turns to Byleth with a pleasant expression. "This will be our first true battle. I'm looking forward to fighting alongside you, professor."

"Dimitri," Byleth scolds, trying to put as much disappointment into his tone as possible. 

For some reason, he looks as though he's fighting down a grin. "I will not apologize for speaking out for your safety," Dimitri continues. There is no sort of shame or embarrassment present on his face.

Byleth huffs. "...Don't do that again," Byleth chides. 

A pause. "...During the mock battle, your commands were thoughtful and thorough, as was your strategy." Ah. So he wasn't going to make any promises. "With you on our side, I'm confident we will prevail."

Finally recovered from her fit of laughter, Sothis is wiping tears away from her cheeks. "I like this one," she insists. "I liked him before but I really like him now!"

When Byleth doesn't say anything, Dimitri gets a sort of boyish grin on his face, open in its amusement. His dimples are very prominent. "Well! It seems we have some time before our departure. Let's use this opportunity to prepare as best we can."

Byleth is too amazed at the sight to scold him properly.

.

"Father."

Byleth opens the door to Jeralt's quarters to see him sitting at his desk, reading prior entries in his diary. He's rolling something around in his hand. "Ah, Byleth. Great timing. Catch." He tosses that something into the air in Byleth's direction. Byleth catches it easily in one hand and stares down at the item. 

It's Jeralt's ring.

"Father?"

He stares back up at his father to see him already watching. "I'm sure that I've told you this before," Jeralt begins, putting down the diary, "but this was the ring I gave your mother. And now, it's yours. I hope one day, you'll give this to someone you love just as much as I do her."

Byleth feels his eyes water at the words. At how familiar they are. At how emotional they make him.

At his side, Sothis' lip trembles. 

"Aw, kid..." Jeralt says, getting up from his chair and crossing the room to pull Byleth into a hug. "I gave you this ring to make you happy, not to see you cry. Come on now. No tears. Especially not like this."

"Father," Byleth babbles, bringing his arms up around him. "Father...!"

"Shh, kiddo." Jeralt says, running a hand through Byleth's hair. "All my life, I've wanted to see you open with your emotions, but not like this. Definitely not like this."

Last time, when he and Jeralt were in front of his mother's grave, he didn't know what to feel about the ring. Since Byleth had never actually met his mother, and since Jeralt never brought her up, Byleth's never missed her. And at the time, Byleth was incredibly baffled at the idea of sharing his life with another. He was a mercenary. After the school year, he was sure that he was going to take to the road again with his father and the rest of the mercenaries, but...

Jeralt pulls away from the hug, with another heartfelt pat on the back. Sothis floats up to Byleth as well to give him her own pat. The awkward displays of affection make Byleth quirk a tiny smile.

He doesn't know when he's become such a crybaby. Perhaps he always was one, and was just incapable of showing it.

Perhaps everything that happened last time was the source.

Byleth's tears were brief, so he makes quick work of clearing up his face. He's clenched his fist into a grip so hard that the ring leaves an indent on his palm. Byleth takes off his left glove and slips the ring onto the appropriate finger. It's a perfect fit. 

Odd.

He slides the glove back on before he can overthink it, and pointedly does not meet Sothis' bewildered stare.

Jeralt clears his throat. "Well then. After you tell me what you came here for, why don't we visit your mother's grave? I can tell you all sorts of stories about her."

Sothis jerks. "Ah yes, that's right! We had nearly forgotten about what we came here for! Tell your father about that soulless thing that we found in the Holy Tomb!"

"Sothis says we should tell you about the Holy Tomb," Byleth says, tone even. Jeralt tilts his head to the side.

"Ah yes, the goddess' namesake... perhaps the actual goddess.... ghost.... thing..." Jeralt trails off. Byleth ignores her squeals of protest at being called a _thing._ "You mentioned her in your story, but you didn't say that she was still following you around."

Byleth shrugs. "She and I are one and the same," he says simply. 

Sothis crosses her arms, her brow furrowing. "And I am not a _thing._"

"She says she's not a thing," Byleth adds, on her behalf, pretending that he isn't amused. 

His father frowns in disbelief. "Then what is she? The literal goddess? No way."

Sothis squares her shoulders and tilts her chin up as if looking down on them both. "I am the beginning-"

"Anyway, that's not important," Jeralt interrupts. It's quite unfortunate that his father cannot hear her sputter indignantly. "What were you trying to tell me?"

Byleth launches into a brief explanation about the body that they found in the Holy Tomb, while Sothis, unheard, adds her own poignant dialogue. Byleth is sure not to leave out how Linhardt had followed them there. 

Jeralt makes a gruff sound at the back of his throat. "Sounds like another one of her experiments. And you're sure that you didn't see this... lookalike in your last life?"

Byleth shakes his head in response.

"Huh."

For a moment, he thinks to himself. "But then again," Byleth adds, "I had never gone down there this early. So I don't know."

Jeralt runs his temples. "Okay," he begins, sounding rough around the edges. "So there are likely two reasons. One, that person was there before, and you didn't get to see them. Two, that person was never there before, and something had happened to bring them here. Maybe Rhea, when she saw your hair. Maybe someone entirely different."

The rest lies in the air, unspoken.

**Maybe you.**

"I don't get it though," his father continues. "What could you have possibly done that would have made this happen? But then again, that's only if you're the odd one out in this situation."

Everyone in the room sighs.

Sothis tugs at her hair in frustration. "Argh! Why is this so complicated?! What is happening?!"

Byleth feels the same way. If he were the type to pull out his hair, he might be bald at this point.

"Should we go check it out tonight?" Jeralt asks. "Rhea's sending me out tomorrow on recon for a few days with some of her personal knights. I'll take the time to see if they know if anything is up."

"Be careful," Byleth says, the curve of his mouth smoothing out. 

_What would I do if something happened to you again, and I wasn't able to turn back time?_

_I can't protect him if I'm not even there._

_What if-_

Jeralt grins. "I'm not even leaving yet, kiddo. But of course. I can't let you cry again."

That's as good as any promise that Byleth might get. He glances to where Sothis is daintily floating, and sees her nod. "Okay," Byleth decides, "let's go tonight. We have to be careful about it, though. Linhardt might attempt to follow us there."

.

Byleth's having a late dinner with his father and Manuela when Linhardt practically crashes down in the seat next to him, a confused Caspar and Dorothea behind him, trays in hand.

"Professor," Linhardt breathes, sounding genuinely excited. It's something Byleth has never really heard before. "what are your connections with Archbishop Rhea?"

"Linhardt!" Dorothea scolds. "Sorry about him, professor, he's been weirdly excited lately." She tugs at his arm to pull him up from the seat, but Linhardt doesn't budge.

Byleth was quite fond of Dorothea. In his past life, he had recruited a few people into the Blue Lions, and they were still a part of their house in his heart. Dorothea was one of them.

Technically in his last life, he didn't recruit anyone. They came to him after class, or during the day, asking to join. Byleth was too shy to ask anyone himself.

Dorothea asked to join, as well as Marianne, Hilda, and Lysithea.

Perhaps if Byleth was less reserved, he would have asked Linhardt. He felt a strange affinity towards the boy.

Not at this moment, though. 

At this moment Linhardt's soup was spilling all over Byleth's hand.

"Linhardt," Caspar chides, looking put out. "Where are your table manners?"

For a moment Linhardt loses the sparkle in his eyes. "Coming from you, Caspar?"

"Hey, what's that's supposed to mean? Wanna fight-?"

"Hey now," Manuela cuts in, a little puff of air leaving her lips. For a moment Byleth feels incredibly grateful. "Come on, sit down! Food always tastes better with company!"

Scratch that.

Dorothea and Caspar take that as an invitation and slide onto the remaining seats. Of course, that is the cue for Ashe and Ingrid to enter the hall, see Byleth, and decide to squeeze in next to him on the other side. That is also apparently the cue for Raphael, who had just finished precariously balancing his meals onto one tray to slide into the seat next to Jeralt. Ignatz, who was waiting for him, slides his own tray onto the table.

The dining hall is filled with noise once more.

If Byleth hears Sothis giggle, he refuses to acknowledge it.

.

When the moon hits the highest point in the sky, Byleth creeps out of his room.

He feels bad about waking Dedue the last time he went out late, so he takes extra precaution to be more quiet. Even Sothis is tip-toeing across the floors, despite the fact that she has no real reason to. 

She looks incredibly amused, so Byleth refuses to be the one to take the wind out of her sails.

Jeralt is already waiting outside his door, so they nod at each other before heading for that gazebo.

Because nothing goes as Byleth desires, they bump into Linhardt in the corridor, who is feigning a casual air. 

"What a coincidence," Linhardt says smoothly, raising a hand, with a purposeful tone. "It seems that we had the same idea."

His father gives Byleth a pointed look, one that Byleth is much too tired to read deeply into.

Face still blank, Byleth stares the boy down. "Sorry, Linhardt."

Sothis sticks a tongue out at him. "Divine Pulse, now!"

For this, both Byleth and Sothis are in agreement. Linhardt opens his mouth to protest, but freezes mid-motion. Byleth closes his eyes against the stars and the pulsing waves of nausea and finds himself back in his bedroom. He ignores his throbbing headache. It's only temporary, so it should be fine.

This time, Byleth directs his father into a longer route, off the beaten path. Jeralt doesn't question it. Byleth feels a little bit bad about purposefully ignoring Linhardt, and decides to give him a fishing float or a flower tomorrow. Hopefully, despite the fact that Linhardt wouldn't find out, it would stop him from feeling guilty.

They pass by the gatekeeper, who looks very tired. Still, he greets the two of them cheerfully. Byleth makes sure to nod at him. He's quite fond of the gatekeeper, after all.

"Here," Byleth says, when they reach the gazebo. He touches a palm to the orb and the ground opens up, revealing the same path of stairs.

Behind him, Byleth's crest flares in and out of of existence.

He winces. The light might be enough to attract attention.

His father glances at Byleth, and nods. They both take the steps at the same time, and Byleth grabs another torch off the walls, setting it aflame.

The walk is shorter this time, because Byleth is more confident in what's at the end of the tunnel, and because Jeralt's strides are much longer than his. Byleth has to either walk faster or lengthen his strides in order to keep up, which Sothis giggles at.

She is walking alongside them, but her feet don't touch the floor. It's as if she's precariously balancing on an invisible beam.

When they reach the end of the corridor, Jeralt doesn't gawk at the wide, cavernous emptiness of the Holy Tomb. He gives everything a once over and then walks on.

Byleth follows close behind.

"Up the stairs is the throne where you saw this person, right kid?" Byleth nods in response. Their footsteps make clattering sounds against the floor. It's eerie, but Byleth feels much safer knowing his father is taking this path with him.

"Are you not surprised at anything here?" Byleth asks, a little curious. Even after being here multiple times, Byleth finds that there's always something new to ponder over. Questions like 'why is everything green' and 'why is there a throne in a tomb?'

His father shakes his head. "I've seen a lot of crazy things, Byleth. A big mysterious tomb isn't that surprising to me."

Next to them, Sothis gawks at Jeralt. "My goodness," she begins, tone appraising. "I do wonder what sort of things your father has seen, to not even have the slightest reaction."

They start up the stairs, his father taking two at a time. Byleth hurries to match his pace, but doesn't take two at a time out of a fear of tripping over the steps.

The three of them reach the throne.

"Holy _shit,_" Jeralt says, looking at the person seated there.

.

For Annette's birthday, Byleth invites her for tea.

It's a splendid time. Byleth widens his eyes slightly when Annette tells him, eyes much wider than his, that he had somehow picked out one of her favourite teas. It's a sweet apple blend. He shrugs when she asks about it, and directs her attention to the cookies and tarts instead. 

To be honest, it would have been better were the entire Blue Lions class not watching them from the bushes in the least subtle way possible. 

Picking up his own tea cup and adding two cubes of sugar, Byleth pretends not to notice them all shushing Felix, who is asking them why the hell they're even doing this.

Byleth passes her a new hair clip, one that he had seen in town. It was a small, delicate thing, but when Byleth picked it up he immediately realized that the pin itself was made of stronger stuff. Aware that Annette's birthday was coming up, he immediately bought it. It's shaped like a butterfly and is a dazzling sapphire colour, one that would compliment her general aesthetic scheme. "Happy birthday," Byleth says, when her eyes glow with happiness.

Annette immediately pins the butterfly into one of her little hair loops. "Ooh, thank you, thank you!" She reaches up to adjust it. "How do I look?"

Byleth gives a little nod of approval that makes her flush with embarrassment.

"Maybe I should have baked us a cake or something..." Annette trails off, finger to her chin.

From the bushes, Mercedes' eyes sparkle with ideas.

.

When it's Mercedes' birthday, Byleth has every intention to have a tea party with her as well. He's even brought an Albinean berry blend, one that he knows she favours, as well as some gemstone beads that would match Annette's and some fancy cloth.

As soon as she sees him, however, Mercedes yanks him into the dining hall where the rest of the Blue Lions are already gathered in the kitchen.

"For my birthday I wanted all of us to make a cake," she explains, hands clapping together. 

Annette and Ingrid are already drooling. "I love cake," Annette gasps. "Can we add lots of frosting?"

"It's Mercedes' birthday cake, so she gets to choose," Ingrid scolds, but Byleth can see the idea of frosting behind her eyes. 

Dimitri is wringing his hands awkwardly, furthest away from the fire oven. "Well. I will stand here and support you from the sides."

For a moment, Byleth is confused, then he remembers his ageusia. Mercedes beats him to whatever Byleth was about to say, however. "No, no no," she scolds. "Everyone is going to help out. Even you, Felix. I see you trying to sneak away."

Felix, who was in the process of doing just that, sighs but relents.

"Here," Mercedes says, passing Dimitri some eggs, a bowl, and a fork. "Whisk these together. Dedue, Ashe, you're with me on flour and other dry ingredients. Annette, Ingrid, you're on frosting since you were so excited to do so! Felix, Sylvain, measure out the wet ingredients. Professor, please cut up the fruits. I've written out the recipe for you to follow."

Without questioning anything, Byleth slips off his gloves, grabs a knife and begins to quarter the peach currants. For a moment, Byleth saw an older Mercedes, toughened by time but still incredibly kind, leading her troops into battle.

But with cake.

"Ugh," Felix complains, even as he delicately measures out the milk. "Sylvain, can't you read? Measure out the butter properly."

"I am, Felix," Sylvain replies, with the delicacy of someone that communicates in teasing and in teasing alone. "Watch that milk, now."

"Ugh."

A sinister crack makes everyone look up from their work. Dimitri is standing there, horrified, with an absolutely crushed egg in one hand. The yellow mess of the shattered egg is dripping down Dimitri's wrist. "I think I used too much strength," he confesses, looking as if he was caught in a terrible crime.

Ingrid, Sylvain, Annette, and Ashe burst out into horrendously loud laughter, which only makes Dimitri look flustered instead of guilty. 

"You boar," Felix accuses, looking a little amused himself.

"Switch with me, your highness," Dedue says, passing him a cloth to wipe his hands on. 

With skill, Dedue cracks open two eggs at once, one handed, and drops them into the bowl. Ashe oohs and aahs. He then passes the bowl back to Dimitri. "Now whisk," Dedue says.

Ashe's eyes are still wide with admiration. "You must teach me that, Dedue," he insists, excited at the prospect.

Dimitri begins to whisk with a fork. Luckily, the sides of the bowl are quite high, so the egg does not fly in every direction. Byleth can tell that Dimitri is holding back. He's quite proud.

"Oh no," says Ingrid, not sounding sorry in the slightest. "I accidentally added too much sugar into the frosting. Clumsy me. Oh well. Nothing we can do about it." She and Annette whip out spoons to taste the frosting, smiling around the utensils.

Mercedes is sighing, but smiling at the same time, so everything seemed to be alright. 

Sothis is giving unhelpful directions as Byleth cuts up fruit. "Make it smaller," Sothis says, insistent. "Make it rounder. Too small!"

A new set of footsteps enter the hall and Byleth looks up to see Jeritza- the Death Knight- walk in, hands behind his back. 

He stands there awkwardly at the counter, just watching. 

Sothis' eyes narrow. "Creepy," she says. "If he tries anything you've got that knife."

_You don't have to tell me twice._

Ashe is the first of his students to notice. He clears his throat. "Um, professor Jeritza? Is there something that you needed?"

This makes everyone turn. They aren't exactly wary of Jeritza, but most of them glance over to Byleth in a silent question. Byleth's hand tightens over the knife.

Mercedes smiles at him, because that's just what she does. "May we help you? Ah, would you like to bake with us?"

It's Jeritza's turn to look away. He purses his lips, and shifts his weight from side to side. "I heard that it's your birthday today, Mercedes. Congratulations on living this long."

Everyone stares.

Sothis slaps her forehead. "Could he say it any weirder than this?"

Of course Mercedes takes it all in stride. "Thank you so much!"

A pause so dense and thick that Byleth could use the knife to slice through it. They all watch the man tense up, and then force his shoulders to relax.

"Here."

Jeritza presents his hands from behind his back, and both Sothis and Byleth tense, ready for a weapon, but dangling from his hands is a pendant.

Sothis gasps. "Is that...?"

Byleth knows exactly what it is. He's seen many of them in his lifetime, and they all seem to share a very particular aesthetic.

A hero's relic.

It gleams when it catches the light.

But Byleth has never seen this one in his past life.

The crest bearers all freeze up at the sight. Of course they are able to recognize that this is a hero's relic. Sylvain in particular looks away.

"Take it," Jeritza insists, when no one moves. "Now."

Mercedes is the first to break out of the stupor. "Ah, yes. It's so lovely! What a beautiful gift. Thank you so much! Ah, but my hands are covered in flour. Professor, would you mind?"

After wiping a hand down on a piece of cloth, Byleth takes it from Jeritza with his free hand. He's still not entirely comfortable with letting go of the knife. 

They lock eyes.

"Duel me later," Jeritza says. "Then maybe I shall accept your invitations to tea."

He nods at Byleth, and then steps away from the counter. Sothis sticks her tongue out at him. Jeritza is about to leave when Mercedes calls out.

"Emile?" She asks, a little quiet. Then louder, once she has gained confidence. You are Emile, right?"

Jeritza pauses in the doorway. "The boy that answered to that name is dead." Then he steps out.

All is quiet for a moment.

Then Mercedes laughs. "That's Emile, alright. Okay, next time, he's not getting away. I will definitely get some answers."

Annette gasps. "No way. Professor Jeritza is your long lost brother?! I guess the hair colour is similar... but he's nothing like you!"

"We've got the same smile," Mercedes says, with a tiny grin. 

"Yeah," Annette replies, "I don't see it."

"Ingrid," Byleth asks, "are your hands clean?"

She wipes her frosting covered hands down on a cloth, then looks at him. "They are now! What do you need?"

"Please move Mercedes' hair out of the way," Byleth says, "I am going to put it on her." Obediently, Mercedes tries to stay as still as possible while Ingrid gathers her hair up and away from her neck. Byleth fastens the pendant at her nape.

"There you go," Byleth says, stepping away.

Mercedes looks at the pendant with wide eyes. "It's... pulsating. Like a heart beat!"

Ashe's jaw drops. "It's _what?_"

For a moment Byleth didn't know why Ashe was confused. He's definitely seen a hero's relic before. Even in his past life, when Byleth was given Failnaught, he had made Ashe wield the weapon. But then, Byleth realized that even he shouldn't know what a hero's relic is, at the moment.

"It's a hero's relic," Dimitri says, studying the pendant. "Of course it moves. It is quite pretty. Prettier than most."

Sylvain smiles to cover up his shudder. This doesn't escape the eyes of his childhood friends, nor does it escape Byleth's eyes. "Yeah, the relic of house Gautier does the same. It... wriggles."

"Emile gave me a _hero's relic?_" Mercedes demands, even though no one has answers for her. "Ooh, that boy. Wait until his birthday..."

They finish baking the cake without further interruptions, but Ingrid and Sylvain tease Dimitri about breaking the eggs the rest of the process.

It's a delicious treat. Byleth makes sure to give his own gifts to Mercedes, and she thanks him happily for them.

They all pretend not to notice when Mercedes puts a piece aside, presumably for her brother.

Sothis, who is leaning against Byleth's arm, sighs. "I hope he doesn't try anything this time. It might get complicated if Mercedes and the Death Knight are too involved with each other."

_Maybe we can use this to our advantage?_

Even the mere thought is laughable. The two of them know that they always have to prepare for the worst.

.

The day of the mission finally arrives.

Before leaving, Jeralt had split up half of his mercenaries, because Byleth refused to take all of them. Half went with his father on recon, and half were accompanying Byleth on his mission. Some of the knights of Seiros accompanied them as well, as battalions for the students.

Byleth should have made his father take all of them. 

"Byleth was such a cute kid," one of the mercenaries say, arm draped around Sylvain's shoulders. "Always following the captain around with a little toy sword. What happened?"

"He's still cute," Sylvain replies, loud and flirty enough for everyone to hear. His mercenary group guffaws.

Felix rolls his eyes so hard Byleth fears they'll get lost in the back of his head.

It was a day trip, so they left at dawn. The group probably would not be able to reach the canyon until the very next day, so they packed tents and sleeping bags.

Jeralt's mercenaries are singing, loudly, scaring everything in a ten mile radius. Good thing they brought rations.

"Do they always do this?" Ingrid asks Byleth, who is standing away from the loud group. 

He nods. "They are always singing, or telling stories. It's good for morale, so father and I encourage it."

"Singing?" Ashe adds, sounding confused. He's walking in tune with the beat, though.

Byleth shrugs. "What else do you do on long journeys?"

"So you sing too, professor?" Annette asks, smile wide. "Me too! I love to sing. Why aren't you singing with them?"

Of course the mercenaries hear.

"Yeah, come on Byleth!"

"You've got the voice of a siren, kiddo!"

"Tryna look cool in front of your students?"

"Don't be chickenshit!" 

Some of the students balk at the rough language. The knights of Seiros stop in their tracks. But Byleth is used to crude language. He had also forgotten that his students have yet to interact much with his group of mercenaries. In the future, Annette usually sang along with them.

Byleth ignores them. They burst out into another song, about a cruel, ice cold beauty that won't even look their way, about how their hearts are broken and can never be repaired. Sylvain is almost on the floor.

Sothis nudges him. "Sing. Come on now. Siiiing."

Byleth really, really wishes that he made his father take all of them.

.

Even though the canyon is just a few more short hours away, they all decide to set up camp. They already had been walking all day, and some of the Blue Lions, unused to such a trek, look exhausted.

For rations, they've got bread and some sweets that Annette and Mercie had brought, flasks of water, and dried fruit. Byleth still sends some of his men out to see if there's any game in the area.

The Blue Lions are sitting around the fire when Byleth speaks.

"Tomorrow you might kill someone," he says, because there's no way around it.

They stop and stare. Byleth grasps Sothis' hand for comfort, because he despises attention, even from the people he holds dear. "Tomorrow might be your first kill. It might be your tenth. You might not even kill anyone tomorrow. You might fatally injure someone, and just the same, their life is over."

Felix folds his arms across his chest. "So?"

"Felix," Ingrid snaps, voice low.

His gaze is accusing. Byleth tries to meet the challenge. "I am under no delusion that I am able to take the high ground," Byleth replies, voice soft. "I am more aware of this than you know."

Sothis curls against his arm, watching the fire spark. It gives Byleth comfort.

"There is a world out there where no one has to die useless deaths," Byleth continues. "Unfortunately, we do not live in one. Battle is more than blades meeting. It is a disagreement. It is fights over land, land that could provide for their families and the generations to come. It is morals clashing, because everything has gone much too far to talk it out. Everyone fights for a reason. Even those bandits."

The Blue Lions are silent. Byleth takes that as a sign to continue.

"There is no life that is worth less than another. The moment you think someone has to die- because you believe that they are beneath you- you become arrogant. Complacent. Then you die, because someone thinks the same of you. However," Byleth swallows. "That does not mean that some people do not deserve to die."

Dimitri's hands clench into fists.

"But you should know that is entirely up to interpretation." Byleth shrugs. "Who is allowed to decide what's wrong? What's right? Do we decide? Does the goddess? Does someone else?"

"What if," Dimitri cuts in, eyes dark. "What if someone does something absolutely unforgivable. Absolutely unspeakable. What then? Are we allowed to judge them then?"

Byleth pauses, thinking about a way to answer. Making sure no one from his mercenary group is in range, he stares into the fire. "There was a woman once," Byleth has to control his anger at the thought of her, "she had attempted to kill my father."

_And she succeeded._

But Byleth doesn't say that.

"I was furious. I wanted to rip her limb from limb." His voice is still carefully even. "And then someone else killed her." 

Byleth stares up at the Blue Lions. "Do you think that I was satisfied? She was gone. One less stain on the fabric of humanity."

No one answers. Then Dimitri quietly shakes his head.

Byleth looks up at the stars. "I suppose to me, that would be the definition of absolutely unforgivable. Those who hurt the ones I love are absolutely unforgivable. But I wouldn't be happy killing that woman. Perhaps I would be satisfied, for a moment. Perhaps I would have been happy to see her blood on my hands. But what next?"

"What do you mean?" Dimitri asks. It's almost inaudible. 

He shrugs in response. "My father would still be-" Byleth cuts himself off. "My father would still be gravely injured. There would be no way around it. Blood does not wash off blood. And blood cannot repay blood. Her death would be useless to me."

"But-" Dimitri tries to say, but stops himself. "But wouldn't it be all over then? Everyone- everyone would be satisfied."

Byleth almost wants to laugh. "No. Even if she died, there would still be people trying to kill m- my father. There are people that yet live, that have every incentive and possibility to kill or harm the ones that I love. Does that mean that I should kill everyone, in order to ensure that no one harms them? Is there a real way to totally prevent tragedy? Even if I do end everyone with evil intentions, they could still fall ill and die of sickness. They could break their neck falling down the stairs. They could kill themselves. Being alive is it's own risk."

Silence.

"Apologies, Dimitri. There is no real answer to your question. Right and wrong are subjective depending on the situation, and that is the problem." 

Byleth sighs and takes a swig of the water. "That is why we must see things from all perspectives, and then decide from there. My point is this. I do not want you to kill. At least, not without a reason. That doesn't mean you will not. That doesn't mean you already have. And I am a hypocrite. I know that very well. Tomorrow is a real battle. You must keep that in mind. Lives will be lost, and you should take care that you will not be one of them. What are you fighting for? What are you living for? Can you talk it out? Can you agree?"

He stands from the fire. "What makes it just to kill? Is it ever alright to kill? What does it mean, that we're still alive, even though many others- stronger ones, loved ones, are not? Despite everything, we are still here. We are still alive."

Felix opens his mouth, but then closes it just as fast. His hands curl in his lap. 

Byleth hums. "I want you to think about it. Goodnight."

.

They reach the canyon in the morning. 

Before they meet with the bandits, Byleth stops them all in their tracks. "I think we are getting close," Byleth says simply.

That's the cue for his mercenaries to get rowdy. Everyone is shaking hands, slapping backs, bringing their foreheads together, yelling and getting louder and louder by the moment.

"What is going on?" Mercedes asks. "What are they doing?"

"It's our ritual before battle," Byleth responds, letting some of the mercenaries ruffle his hair or tug at his cheeks. Luckily, his face remains calm, even as his students gape at the way the mercenaries pull at their professor. "Incentive to stay alive."

A few of the mercenaries come up to Byleth and crush him in hugs. "Don't die," they all say, grinning wide. "Don't you dare die out there! What would we tell the captain?"

"You too," Byleth replies softly. He gets more tugs on the cheeks and slaps on the back for it. One of them slings an arm around his shoulder and brings their foreheads together, laughing when Byleth doesn't pull away.

It's a merry moment.

Byleth refuses to let any of them perish.

"Don't die," Byleth tells his students solemnly. 

They smile at him. "You too!" Ashe says, still cheery despite the grim conversation last night. In fact, all of them look surprisingly upbeat. 

He wonders what they talked about when he left for his tent.

That's the incentive for the Blue Lions to all join in, throwing arms around each other, holding hands. Dimitri punches Dedue's arm, lightly, with a grin. Sylvain is trying to get Felix to hug him. Ingrid pats Byleth on the back with a huge smile. Ashe has been brought into a group hug with Annette and Mercedes. It seems as if the mercenaries' glee was infectious.

Sothis is smiling at Byleth, but her eyes are narrowed. "If you die out there, I will be so upset with you."

_I won't._

She scoffs in response. "You better not." With a wave of her hand, a crest flashes out behind her. Byleth feels instantly safer. "I may not be able to fight," Sothis adds, "but I can help. This should be able to bring your resistance up."

_Thank you._

"Thank me by not dying," Sothis sneers, but slips her hand into his to give it a squeeze. 

.

The layout of the canyon is exactly as Byleth remembers, so he positions them all over on one side of the bridge. Kostas notices them immensely. 

"It's you punks!"

One of the knights clears their throat. "By order of-"

Byleth steps up, and reaches deep, deep down, for the part of him that is all Sothis. "Kostas. Will you and your band come back with us quietly to the academy? There are some things that I would like to ask you."

Kostas bursts out laughing, which causes all of the bandits to laugh as well. Dimitri stares at Byleth, looking confused. 

"Yeah yeah," Kostas says. "Can you die quietly? Actually, scratch that. I want to hear all of you scream!"

Byleth sighs as all of the bandits let out an uproarious cheer. 

"It appears as if these ruffians will not go quietly with us," Sothis says. "Oh well. We have to keep Kostas alive, though."

Kostas frowns at their group. "Hey. HEY! Why did you bring mostly brats?! Are the knights not taking us seriously enough!?" The bandits start to boo. "'Ey boys, if we send all their heads back to the academy, maybe they'll care a little more! CHAAARGE! Across the bridge!"

Sothis disappears back into Byleth's mind. "Beat him up!" She cheers, sounding particularly excited. Byleth wonders why.

"It's because of you," Sothis responds. "If you are me, then I am you! Of course I would love battle. It's a part of me that was born from you, mostly."

Byleth has no time to think about her words. The battle has already begun.

"Take the bridge," Byleth directs them. "Before they cross it." He draws his blade and runs into the fray, his students and their battalions close behind.

Thank the goddess for battle.

Byleth was much better at swinging his sword compared to speaking.

As soon as several bandits cross the bridge, axes raised high, Byleth rolls out of the way and slides his sword through one of their legs. The familiar hum of a fire spell flies through the air, and so Byleth hurriedly dodges. The fire hits the bandit head on, and they fall off the bridge, screaming the entire way down.

Annette, who had cast the spell, exhales deeply. "I did- I did it!"

Two of the other bandits are taken down by Dedue and Felix, who are surprisingly fighting back to back. When Felix ducks, a sharp hum of metal fills the air for Dedue to quickly counter. Felix is fast and is able to finish off any enemies that Dedue cannot finish off in one blow. They join Byleth and the three of them make quick work of the enemies on the bridge.

Ashe's arrows fell every bandit still able to stand. Byleth watches him notch a few arrows. His hands do not shake. Sothis whistles.

Anytime Byleth passes a bandit felled by an arrow, he quickly rips it out of them, and hands it back to Ashe. For a moment, his eyes flicker, but they narrow in determination. He marches on.

The rest of their troupe charge ths bridge, unwilling to allow themselves to be cornered and all shoved into one tiny area.

When they cross the bridge, it becomes a bit more complicated. The terrain is uneven and they're clearly outnumbered, but Byleth refuses to be intimidated.

One of his mercenaries is stuck hard by a lance, goes down, and stays down. Immediately Byleth uses a Divine Pulse, willing the vertigo away, and stepping between the mercenary and the lance. It only scratches Byleth, but it still stings. The mercenary jabs his own lance through the bandit's chest, nodding at Byleth. 

"Twelve more," Sothis reminds him, just in case.

Mercedes, who was accidentally left by herself due to Dimitri and Ingrid quickly advancing, is cornered by three bandits. Byleth quickly repositions Sylvain to take a few blows for her, which he quickly counters, and anything that does connect is swiftly healed up courtesy of Mercedes. Byleth takes care of any Sylvain cannot take down quickly. Both Sylvain and Mercedes nod at him.

"Ashe," Byleth shouts, over the cacophony of battle. "Take Mercedes and Ingrid with you, and go over to where the chest is. There's a slope that will loop around to where Kostas is. We'll corner him. Everyone else, with me!"

"Yes," Ashe calls back, taking out another arrow. Ingrid cuts a path for them, and they quickly make their way over to the chest. 

Byleth turns around to notice that Felix is trying to run ahead again, and that he's taken one two many hits. "Annette!" He yells, repositioning her on the other side of him. Byleth catches Dimitri's eye, and he nods. As Annette rushes to heal Felix, Dimitri and Byleth cover her. Dimitri slashes a bandit's chest with his lance, and the bandit crumples to the floor.

"Sorry," Felix grumbles, when they reach him. He stays still to let Annette heal him. When Sylvain is closer, he repositions Felix behind him and ruffles his hair.

After making sure that the group Byleth had sent over to the chest was doing alright, Byleth takes down another two bandits, sword a blur. They're slowly but surely advancing.

They reach a set of stairs that Byleth knows is hiding an archer. "Annette, use a fire spell over here." She doesn't hesitate to do so, and jumps when a groan rumbles out from the side of the stairs. Ignoring the staircase entirely, Byleth slides down the slope and brings his blade down on the archer to finish him.

His students hurry down the staircase. "Need healing?" Annette asks, and nods when Byleth shakes his head.

"Kostas is on a healing tile," Byleth explains, over the din. "He won't be moving anytime soon. We must clear out the other bandits first."

"Okay," his students agree, getting into a formation which blocks Annette, so she can follow up. Sylvain is splattered in blood, as crimson as his hair. When he reaches up with a sleeve to wipe it away, it smears across his face.

The rest of his students look about the same. Their clothes are torn and their shields are a bit battered. The red on Dimitri's visage makes Byleth do a double take. 

For a moment, he is five years older.

Luckily, Sothis interrupts his train of thought. "I don't think that you even have a speck of blood on you," she says. "Are you just that skilled?"

_...Cleaning up bloodstains is annoying._

She bursts out laughing.

Over the group of bandits that Dimitri and Dedue are felling with ease, Byleth can see Ashe's group appear, looking a little scratched up, but nothing too serious. Ingrid, their main attacker, is doing quite well. Byleth has to remind himself to give her some flowers when they returned to the academy.

Actually, everyone deserved flowers. They were all working together quite well.

Dedue takes down the last bandit, breathing heavily. Only Kostas was left.

Kostas laughs and laughs when he sees them approach. "So, you took the boys down, huh? I won't go down as easily as them!"

The students and the knights look ready to charge at him, but Byleth raises a hand. 

"Let me," Byleth says, and allows himself to get within range. 

Kostas laughs and laughs. "You think you're hot shit, huh? You think you're better than me? Trying to take me down one on one? You'll regret this!"

It's laughably easy. Although Kostas is strong, Byleth is stronger, and faster, and more skilled. He attempts to separate Byleth's head from his body with a swing of his axe, but it's as easy as stepping out of range, stepping forward again, and knocking the axe out of his hands. The axe flies a good ways away, and Kostas hits the floor from the recoil.

Byleth points the sword at his throat.

The blade sings as it is pressed to his neck.

His mercenaries appear from behind him, passing Byleth a length of rope. For the first time, fear flashes in Kostas' eyes. 

"What are you doing, professor?" One of the knights ask. "Hurry and finish him off!"

"I have a few questions I would like you to answer," Byleth murmurs, as if he never heard the knight speak.

"You think I'm gonna fuckin' answer anything?! I-" Kostas swallows as the sword digs into his skin, drawing blood.

Byleth's face is blank. "You don't have a choice. I am going to bring you back to the academy and you will answer my questions there. Maybe you'll live if you follow everything I say."

Dimitri steps forward. "What are you trying to do?" It's not accusing, like the knights. He sounds genuinely curious. 

"Isn't it odd that an entirely random bandit was able to stumble upon three of Fódlan's most important students? On accident?" Byleth's lip curls. "Something is up."

This makes Ingrid tilt her chin in thought. "You're right," she agrees. "That is... odd."

Dimitri nods. "Very well. Let's head back to the academy with him. Perhaps Lady Rhea can question him."

The mention of her name snaps the knights out of their trance. "Lady Rhea said to take down the bandits. Isn't it fine to kill him now? It's not as if he'll be of any importance."

Byleth shakes his head.

One of the knights puts a hand on his hilt, and immediately Byleth's mercenaries step in front of him. Even the students balk. "Are you threatening Byleth?" One of the mercenaries demand, sounding cross.

"What? No!" The knight exclaims, looking flustered. "It's just- if professor Byleth cannot kill him for some reason, I can do it for him!"

The mercenaries laugh.

Byleth tilts his head, glancing evenly at the carnage around him. "I am perfectly capable," Byleth replies, slow and smooth, "of killing someone."

When no one has anything to say to that, Byleth nods. "Please tie up this man. Make sure he doesn't have any weapons. Good job today, everyone. Sorry for the trouble." The mercenaries immediately pat Kostas down, and then quickly tie him up. One of them set him on his horse. When he struggles, Byleth knocks him out- and he stays out. Finally.

Sothis smiles in the back of his mind. "Phew," she sighs. "One thing down, a million more to go."

The back of Byleth's mouth tastes like iron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE CAKE SCENE WAS MEANT TO BE A FIGHT SCENE WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME AAAAAHHHHHH
> 
> also. also! i deliberately cut out the rest of the holy tomb for a reason! can't let father dearest spill everything.... yet
> 
> thank you for reading!
> 
> byleth/dimitri C rank  
byleth/dedue C rank  
byleth/felix C+ rank  
byleth/annette C rank  
byleth/ingrid C rank  
byleth/sylvain C rank  
byleth/mercedes C+ rank  
byleth/ashe C rank
> 
> byleth/linhardt C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/claude ??? rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea ??? rank


	6. oath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spoilers for mercie/cas paralogue  
I REALLY FUCKING LOVE THAT DK JUST. HANDED MERCIE A HERO'S RELIC LIKE THE FUCK. I FOUND THAT SO FUCKING FUNNY IDK WHY SO I HAD TO INCORPORATE IT SOMEHOW IN MY FIC LOL
> 
> mm. i think this is the first chapter that ive written that actually deserves the mature rating. it's probably not what you're thinking rn but. hm. 
> 
> BTW ARE YOU SICK OF ME THANKING YOU YET? BECAUSE ITLL NEVER END THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU YOUR SUPPORT IS SO GOOD I CRY OVER EVERY COMMENT, KUDO, BOOKMARK AND HIT YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW THANK YOU SO SO MUCH

Byleth has no idea why he thought this entire situation would go smoothly.

First, when they reached the academy and were eagerly waved in by the gatekeeper, Kostas was still knocked out. That was nice, but Byleth couldn't exactly bring the horse into the school, so he had to carry the bandit inside. At first, he wanted to carry him, arm under the knees and around the shoulders, then wondered if that was too weird. So he lugged the man over his shoulders.

Of course that woke him up.

So as Byleth carried the bandit, who was screaming and cursing up a literal storm, he was followed by his students, who were covered in dried blood and looked thoroughly unkempt by battle, as well as the knights of Seiros, who were muttering to themselves in the back, and Jeralt's mercenaries, who were still singing, unphased.

This all happened in the entrance hall of the academy, where several knights, staff, and students were. 

These people included but were not limited to a gaping Lorenz, a laughing Claude, a shrieking staff member, and a barking dog, who ran up to Byleth and nipped at his heels.

Eventually they were all shooed away by Kostas' unholy shrieking. However, not before Byleth grew so very sick of his screaming right next to his ear that he decided to carry the man bridal style anyway.

Claude, who saw this, had to hold onto a pillar in the hall to support himself, wheezing with joyous laughter. "This is the weirdest bridal procession I've ever seen," he proclaims, and Byleth cannot help his dirty glare.

"I'm glad someone's having fun in this situation," Sothis scoffed, hands over her ears. 

Byleth takes the opportunity to turn to his students, as well as the rest of the ones accompanying him. Over the cacophony of shrieking, he addresses them calmly. "Please go clean yourselves up now. Good work."

The Blue Lions were very clearly not trying to laugh at Byleth's back, and now that he's facing them, he can see it clearly in their faces. Annette cannot hide a snort, and she immediately apologizes.

"I'm sorry," she begins, covering her mouth with her hand, "it's just- it's just- you look so unphased, professor, and he's shrieking, and you're holding him like that-!"

Byleth tilts his head. His lip thins out.

"See you later, professor!" Mercedes quickly says, dragging Annette and Ingrid off into the direction of the sauna. Soon, most of the Blue Lions follow, also intent on cleaning themselves up. Felix has taken his hair out of his bun, ripping his fingers through the knots. Ashe winces at every audible sound, and Sylvain is trying to help Felix out, but every attempt is waved away. They are all nearly jogging to the sauna to clean themselves up.

Byleth looks at the remaining two with a quizzical expression. "Will you not follow them?"

"If I may, professor," Dimitri begins, dipping a little into a bow, "I would like to follow you, in case we are questioning this man today. I too wish to hear his motives."

Dedue nods after Dimitri is finished speaking. 

"Only if you so desire," Byleth replies, turning on his heel. He can't see it, but he knows Dimitri is grinning. Perhaps with those dimples of his.

"I do desire," Dimitri responds, and then coughs loudly. Odd.

Second, when they all arrived to the audience chamber, Jeralt was there, who had presumably returned from his mission and was telling Rhea the details. This was not necessarily a bad thing, however, as soon as his father laid eyes on him carrying Kostas bridal style, he barked out a laugh that immediately transformed into a terribly awkward cough.

"Pardon our intrusion," Dimitri says, as they arrive. Seteth's wide eyed stare makes Sothis burst into raucous laughter, ringing like bells in the back of Byleth's mind. "We would like to request an audience with you, Lady Rhea, as soon as possible."

"Now, wait just a moment!" Seteth exclaims, face flushing in indignation. "What is the meaning of this?"

Lady Rhea regards Byleth with a cool expression, not even sparing the squirming Kostas a glance. "Please. Be at ease, professor. I always have time for you. It seems that you have brought back a... guest."

When Dimitri and Dedue both look Byleth's way, he realizes that it's up to him to explain everything. "I brought back the bandit," Byleth begins, as if it wasn't already obvious. "I was hoping we could question him."

Kostas is snarling in his arms. "Put me down, you blank stared bitch!"

"_What_ did you just say to Byleth and I, huh?!" Sothis snaps, stomping her feet. Byleth sighs inwardly. "You insolent-"

"Your mission was to eliminate the bandits," Rhea replies, and it sends a jolt down Byleth's neck. "However, I am pleased with your actions, professor. It seems as if you really are making the students' safety your top priority."

Sothis rolls her eyes. "She's not wrong, but how did she get all of that from your words?"

"It would be most prudent to discover exactly why these bandits were after our students," Rhea continues, hands folding together. "A blade pointed at the students under the goddess' protection is blasphemous, after all. Thank you, professor. It seems... It seems that I was right about you."

Rhea's eyes crinkle with a smile that make her already ageless, ethereal face seem that much younger.

Byleth decides that it's the perfect time to place Kostas on the ground. He's still fervently struggling against his bonds, snapping at Byleth as if he were a feral mutt. "I ain't telling you shit," Kostas hisses, "You ain't getting nothin' outta me!"

At Rhea's side, Seteth's eyes narrow. "Watch your mouth in front of the Archbishop," he reprimands, stern. Kostas sneers. 

"Archbishop? Who gives a damn?" Kostas shoots them both a glare. "No goddess that exists ever could give a fuckin' shit about us little folk."

Rhea's expression smooths out. "It seems as if you have been terribly misguided." Her hands squeeze together, tighter than ever. "How unfortunate. Most unfortunate. You have always been in the goddess' thoughts."

Her eyes narrow the tiniest fraction. "And yet, despite this, you continue to act in such a vulgar manner."

Everything about her tone, her body language, and her words shriek _danger_ at Byleth. His fingers twitch for his sword.

Before Byleth can do anything like flinch, his father steps up and crouches down, eye level with Kostas. 

They stare each other down for a moment.

"Byleth," his father addresses him, not looking away from the bandit. "How many fingers does a man need to be interrogated?"

Sothis gasps.

"You're bluffing," Kostas spits, but he is unable to hide the tremor in his voice. "An upright knight of Seiros wouldn't do such a thing."

Jeralt ignores him. "Byleth. How many?"

"Father," Byleth replies, unsure. He knows that they've done worse in their line of work, but it's so odd to hear him say things like that when they're not on the job, and when they're not really needed.

_What is going on?!_

Sothis is jumping up and down from adrenaline, pulling and pulling on Byleth's arm. "Don't ask me!" She screams, shrill and high pitched. "Ask your dad!"

Jeralt sighs. "Fine. No fingers." Before Kostas can relax, his father trails a hand slowly down the hilt of his sword. The bandit watches the movement, eyes wide. 

"Have you heard of castration?" Jeralt asks, voice carefully even. "Does a man need _that_ to confess?"

Sothis' jaw practically hits the floor.

Byleth watches, transfixed, as all of the blood rushes out of Kostas' face. It seems as if no matter what status you were born with, a man would still tremble at the thought of such a thing happening to them.

"Fine, fine!" Kostas yelps. "I get it! I get it okay, so can you get your hands offa your sword!"

His father draws out the motion, but eventually he frees his grip on the weapon. Kostas sighs in relief, tilting his entire body away from Jeralt.

"It was some stuck up guy in a mask calling himself the Flame Emperor," Kostas confesses, and Byleth feels some weight leave his shoulders. "I don't know anything more than that!"

Jeralt stares at him, and the bandit flinches so bad Byleth can practically feel himself jolting. "That's really all!" Kostas insists, looking terrified. "He wore all red. The guy probably did something to his voice before he came to us. Lots and lots of bullions to spare! He just asked us to get rid of some royal brats that were expected to be in the woods that night, and it was free gold! How could we say no!"

"So," Dimitri cuts in, and Byleth almost jumps. Sothis actually does leap into the air. They both had forgotten that Dimitri and Dedue were standing there. "This _Flame Emperor_ person somehow knew that the three of us were all going to be there, at that moment, huh? Intriguing."

Dedue looks thoughtful. "He likely knew all your identities as well," he adds, brow furrowing.

"The Flame Emperor..." Seteth trails off, looking thoughtful. "What sort of features did he possess?"

The bandit laughs. "Why the fuck do I gotta-" Kostas notices Jeralt stare, and coughs to cut himself off. "Red, I guess? He had a stupid lookin' feathery thing coming outta his head. He wore an outfit that covered any sorta body shape. No figure whatsoever, and kinda short."

"I see," Seteth responds, glancing over at Rhea for a moment. "Anything else?"

Kostas shrugs as best he can, bound up in tight rope. "He just dropped off the gold and left. That's all."

"That's really all?" Jeralt asks, eyes narrowing. 

For a few moments, Kostas withers under his stare. "Okay, okay. Fine. Before the red canyon shit, the Flame Emperor came back to us, called us useless, then told us to die. Somethin' like that. Whatta fuckin' punk. But he warped away."

"So a mage?" Seteth inquires, leaning in. Kostas shakes his head.

"Naw. With the way he was clunkin' around everywhere? No way. He's probably got someone to warp for him." Kostas groans. "Okay, that's all I know! Really!"

Jeralt searches his eyes for a few moments, then his shoulders drop. He glances over at Byleth, and then Rhea, who nods. 

"The goddess smiles down upon you for being truthful," Rhea says, serene as ever. "What a good child you are."

The bandit rolls his eyes.

"What should we do with this man now?" Seteth asks. "We can't exactly let him go."

Before anyone can say anything else, Jeralt violently yanks the collar of Kostas' shirt and stands, dragging him close enough that their noses are nearly touching. "Never speak to my kid like that ever again, got it?" When Kostas nods frantically, Jeralt drops the man to the floor unceremoniously. He glances over at Rhea. "You can do what you want with him now. I'm going to clean myself up."

Jeralt ruffles Byleth's hair as he walks out, and Byleth cannot help but blink. "Your father is quite impressive," Sothis observes, and Byleth cannot help but agree.

There is an odd moment where everyone waits for Jeralt to close the door behind him. When he hears the door shut, Byleth looks up at Rhea. "May we be dismissed now, Rhea?"

"Be more formal with the Archbishop!" Seteth demands, shooting Byleth a glare, but Rhea lifts one hand.

She turns a smile on Byleth, and it practically shines. "I do not mind," Rhea announces. "You may call me Rhea. Thank you for your hard work, professor. You and your students are dismissed."

Dimitri gives a short little bow, while Byleth and Dedue simply nod, before heading for the door.

"Hey wait," Kostas yells. "What are you gonna do with me!? Hey!? I told you everything that I know!"

"Guards," Byleth hears Rhea call, before shutting the door behind him. Byleth and Sothis share a look, then continue to walk.

The three of them are walking down the halls before Dimitri speaks up.

"Professor?"

"What is it, Dimitri?" Byleth asks, eyes still staring straight ahead. He's eager to clean himself up as well. 

Dimitri clears his throat before continuing. "Your, your father. He is quite the extraordinary person, is he not? Jumping to another's aid, fiercely protective, strong... I can see the resemblance now."

"There was always a resemblance," Byleth replies. When Dimitri and Dedue look at him, insistent that he elaborates, he decides to indulge them. "We have the same smile."

A laugh escapes from Dimitri's mouth, one that surprises both Dedue and Byleth. The tiniest smile appears on Dedue's face. "You never fail to amaze me, professor. I would love to see that smile again."

"Is it so rare an occurrence?" Byleth asks, stepping down the stairs. 

Dimitri purses his lips, as if in thought. "That's a part of what makes it special, but to me any expression of yours is sp- I mean. It is quite rare. Like Dedue's."

Byleth watches Sothis jump down the entire flight of stairs, landing without a sound. "Dedue's smile is nice," Byleth responds, thoughtfully.

"You are exaggerating, professor."

Dimitri chuckles. "Does the professor seem like one for exaggeration, or lies? No, Dedue. Listen to the professor. Your smile is also wonderful."

Byleth nods, a little jerk of his head. Dedue sighs, a small puff of air, but he sounds amused. 

"Do we really not look alike?" Byleth asks, after a moment. 

"Besides the smile?" Dimitri asks. For some reason, Byleth thinks a hint of his voice sounds teasing. "No. Jeralt's got that sandy hair colour, and a broad stature- although your shoulders are quite broad as well. And your face is really-"

Dimitri coughs loudly. Was there a flu going around the school? He has been coughing rather frequently.

Byleth shrugs his shoulders experimentally. "No. Yours are wider. You and Dedue." Then Byleth frowns. "My face?"

"Not that wide," Dedue interjects, but Byleth shakes his head. For a moment, it looks as if Dimitri is shooting him a grateful look.

"No. Very wide. I can see the hard work and dedication you all put into your training." He insists. "Good job. I am very proud."

A deep, pink flush spreads out across Dimitri visage, one that travels down his neck and across his ears. Concerned, Byleth presses a warm, gloved hand up to his forehead, which he jolts under.

"Are you sick?" Byleth asks, concerned. "Perhaps you should hurry on ahead to the baths."

"Perhaps I should!" Dimitri exclaims, trembling under his touch. His declaration is loud enough to grab the attention of everyone in the halls. "Let us go now, Dedue!"

Dimitri takes long, quick strides out of the hall, not waiting for Dedue to follow. Dedue sighs and nods at Byleth before taking off after the prince.

Sothis and Byleth stare at each other, then shrug.

.

There is apparently a dungeon underneath the academy that Byleth has never known about, despite the fact that he's been here for over a year. But then again, he's passed by many a priest or monk within the chapel claiming that they too, have never seen the entirety of the monastery despite being there longer than Byleth ever has.

Byleth only discovers this crucial information when he's speaking to the gatekeeper, who informs him about it when Byleth passes by.

"Professor," the gatekeeper had said, chipper as always. "Did you and the rest of the knights put that bandit in the dungeon? I heard that he was causing quite a lot of trouble for you."

After more prodding, and more information, Byleth discovers that there is really a dungeon, and that he really shouldn't be surprised that it is underground and only accessible from a door past a gate near the chapel.

And so Byleth finds himself there, in the middle of the night, a satchel and an axe slung over his shoulder. Past the guards and the doors, the gates, and one eerie hallway, for the first time in two lifetimes, Byleth finds the prison cells of the academy.

They're dark, but surprisingly well kept. Maybe Cyril cleaned down here as well. It is an entire hall of cells. No windows. It doesn't look at all like the Holy Tomb, but it gives Byleth that same, uneasy feeling.

"It's not that creepy," Sothis disagrees, hiding behind Byleth's back.

There is a single prisoner in the long line of cells. No guards. No visible keys anywhere. It looks as if the door has been welded shut to the bars with magic.

He's looking down at Kostas, who is still being incredibly loud behind a set of metal bars, cursing up a storm at the walls.

"Hello," Byleth greets, because he has no idea what else to say.

Kostas whirls around, eyes wide. Then they narrow. "Ah. That mercenary's brat. What do you want? Here to tell me that daddy dearest is really gonna chop off my dick?"

"No," Byleth responds, face blank.

"Then get the fuck outta here," Kostas spits. "Don't waste both of our times. I knew what I was gettin' into when you dragged me to the monastery. Even if I'm not executed, they'll probably starve me down here. But it's better than out there."

"Why?"

The bandit scoffs. "Don't ya get it? If the Flame Emperor finds out that I spilled the beans, the guy'll probably kill me. He seems strong an' shit. I'm done for."

Byleth nods. He sits down on the floor in front of the cell, and opens the satchel. Inside is a few slices of bread and fruit that he had taken from the kitchen. He offers Kostas a slice, wordless.

For a moment, all Kostas does is stare. "What the fuck is this?"

"Food."

"Don't play dumb, brat," Kostas sneers. "Your pity is useless to me."

Byleth shakes his head. "I have my own reasons. And I was hungry. So I might as well bring food for you as well."

Kostas glares at the piece of bread as if it has personally wronged him, then snatches it out of Byleth's hands through the bars. He devours it in a few seconds, and then glances at the rest of the food. Byleth passes him a good chunk of the bread and fruit, and they eat in silence.

"What're ya doing here anyway?" Kostas asks, through mouthfuls of unchewed food. Sothis pretends to gag at the sight.

"Waiting," Byleth responds. 

Kostas shrugs. "Fine, alright. Don't tell me."

A few more moments pass before Sothis' head quirks up. "Someone's coming," Sothis hisses, and Byleth immediately gets to his feet, brushing the crumbs off of his lap and drawing his axe, which he brought specifically for this occasion. When Byleth stands, Kostas also snaps to attention, shoving the rest of the fruit in his mouth.

"What? What's happening?"

The low sound of the floor creaking reverberates through the hallway. Byleth adjusts his stance. 

A man steps out of the staircase and into the dim light of the hall. 

When Kostas sees him, he relaxes. "Fuck, you brat. It's just an old man. Scared the shit outta me! Thought they changed their mind and were gonna execute me anyway!"

Tomas chuckles. "Peace, my friend. Lower your axe. I'm just making the rounds."

Byleth feels an odd grin creep upon his face that feels entirely like Sothis pushing it out of him. 

"I was hoping it would be the Flame Emperor," Sothis murmurs, slow and sweet. "But it seems as though I am still not disappointed. Let's get rid of this man before he tries to kill everyone in Remire!" 

To be honest, Byleth was hoping that the Flame Emperor wouldn't appear tonight, so he was incredibly grateful. 

A little part of him felt a little bad for making Kostas bait. Only a little, though.

"Why is the librarian making the guards' rounds?" Byleth asks, tilting his head to the side. He makes no attempt to lower his sword.

That's all the warning Tomas gets before Byleth dashes out and attempts to slash the man across the chest. "Woah!" Kostas yelps. "What the fuck are you doing?!"

Tomas barely dodges, but it's quite quick for an old man- his robes are torn and he looks unphased. "What are you doing?" Tomas insists, looking distraught. It warps his already unsightly face. "How could you attack me like this, professor?"

Byleth doesn't give him time to breathe. He swings again, and Tomas ducks out of the way, agile. The axe connects with the wall, a screeching noise that reminds Byleth distinctly of Kostas shrieking. 

"I will have no choice to retaliate if you continue," Tomas insists, a hand raised up to cast a spell. Byleth is stronger, and faster. He was also ready for this. He adjusts the grip of the axe to hold it in one hand, steps into the man's personal space, and yanks the man's wrist- and then brings his knee up and hand down at the same time, breaking Tomas' arm over his knee.

"You filthy mongrel!" Tomas shrieks, sinking to the ground. "What have you done?!" Byleth can hear a bit of Solon in his voice, and he doesn't need to strain his ears to hear it.

"Solon," Byleth says, soft and smooth. "Hello."

For a moment, Solon blinks up at him, still in agony over his broken arm. Then he smirks, and it's ugly and raw- Byleth shivers just looking at it. "So you know who I am then, do you? You must be one of us, then."

Byleth says nothing.

Solon's form flutters, and he takes on his original appearance, uglier than normal. He laughs, and it's horrible- like a broken, wounded crow. "If you know who I am, then you shouldn't have done this. Thales will have your head."

"I don't care," Byleth replies. He levels the axe to Solon's face. 

"Come now, you don't know who Thales is? Pitiful worm."

Byleth's grip tightens around his weapon.

Solon rolls his eyes. "Put that axe down, brat, I can clearly see that you're stronger than me. Don't tell me you're protecting this half-breed beast? He'll be more useful in our experiments then he ever was in any other aspect of his life. You should be grateful that I haven't decided to use you instead. You're better as a pawn under our foot."

Byleth stares at him, expression vacant, as if seeing into a different time. "Thank you for killing Monica."

He brings the axe down. 

"But that's all that I am grateful to you for." 

Solon's body falls to the floor.

"Holy shit," Kostas says, from his cell. "Holy shit," he repeats.

"I used your axe," Byleth says simply, finally looking up at Kostas. "The one you used at the canyon. Would you like it back?"

Kostas laughs, but it sounds like it was punched out of him. "Brat. Brat! That was ruthless! What the hell did he even do? And why the hell would I want it back? I ain't plannin' on suicide!"

Byleth levels a hand at the door and releases a powerful fire spell at it, blasting the door away. 

The bandit stares at the wreckage beside him. "You could have warned me!" Kostas screams, and Byleth puts a finger to his lips.

"Shh. The guards might actually come." Byleth reaches down and yanks the axe from Solon's body, before passing it to Kostas, who looks down on it with wide eyes. "Go."

"You're letting me just fuckin' leave? Just like that?"

Byleth shrugs.

"Well, I ain't complaining. I'm getting the fuck outta this hellhole." Kostas is about to hurry up the stairs, when he looks back at Byleth. "I ain't forgettin' this. I owe ya one."

He leaves.

Sothis hums. "Do you think we'll see him again? Should we just kill him too? You know, this might come back to haunt us."

"I don't know," Byleth replies. There was no need for him refrain from speaking aloud to Sothis- no one was here but him. Crouching down, he makes sure that Solon was really dead, then when he's really sure, Sothis kicks his body. Her foot phases through, but she seems satisfied. 

"I hate this man," she announces. "But what was he talking about when he said Thales?"

Sothis has to reach into Byleth's mind to pull the memory out. "Ah. The one that pushed you into the abyss. Let's kill him too."

"Violent," Byleth replies, but doesn't disagree. "What will happen now? If I have killed him here, then the church might never have found out that he was... Like this."

She frowns. "Well, he died in his Solon form, and he's still in his Solon form, so maybe they'll tie the disappearances of the sudden disappearance of their librarian and this guy together. But I would rather have him dead sooner than later. Who knows what other experiments he's been conducting on the other poor souls. It's a good thing that we were able to be rid of him."

"Okay," Byleth concedes. "Should we just leave the body here then? Or bring it somewhere else."

Sothis puts two fingers to her temples and runs them. "On one hand, if we leave the body here, people will ask questions. If we do something about it, people will still ask questions. Hmm."

"Say we do dispose of the body," Byleth utters, "they'll inevitably tie Kostas leaving and Tomas' disappearance together, and they will all mourn him."

"If we leave the body here, I wonder if they'll be able to tell that it's Tomas," Sothis wonders aloud. "Probably not. What to do, what to do..."

Byleth purses his lips. "Leave him," Byleth says finally. "If it turns out that we made a bad decision, then we can use a Divine Pulse."

"Can you travel back that far without consequences?"

"We'll find out."

.

The next day, the entire monastery is alive with terrible news. The evil bandit, Kostas, had escaped. The librarian was missing. An unknown man, found dead in front of his jail cell. Multiple knights are sent out in search of the bandit for answers, but no results turn up. The Archbishop has even sent out one of her best knights, Catherine, to look for the man.

Jeralt is sent out to look for the Flame Emperor, a task that he knows will be fruitless. Before he leaves, he ruffles Byleth's hair affectionately. 

"I have to be gone for at least a week or two to convince Rhea that I am looking," he mutters, then steps out of his son's personal space. He brings half of his mercenaries again, and leaves half with Byleth.

Lord Lonato has declared a revolt on the church. Ashe goes pale when he hears the news, and the Blue Lions all hurry to comfort him.

Byleth gives the Blue Lions a day off.

When Byleth is assigned a mission to subdue Lord Lonato, he nods at Rhea. Catherine is far from the monastery. He can work with this.

.

"Happy birthday, Sylvain," Byleth says, handing him a board game over tea. The Blue Lions are hiding in the bushes, again, muttering loudly to themselves.

"Wow, professor!" He looks stunned at the gift. "Can I really have this? How did you even know that I liked this sort of stuff? Even the tea. I don't remember telling you that I like Bergamot!"

Byleth had nearly forgotten how observant Sylvain was. "You are always playing these games with people," Byleth says, trying his best not to gulp because Sylvain will definitely notice- "and when you go out to tea, if the girl doesn't specify that she wants a certain one you always get this."

Sylvain regards him coolly for a few more agonizing moments, before he grins again, a real smile. It's crooked, which somehow makes it more charming than his usual one. "You're always paying real close attention to us, huh? Always pampering us. A guy could get used to this."

Byleth takes a sip of tea, not knowing how to respond. 

"It's my birthday, right?" Sylvain asks, as if he didn't just get invited to birthday tea and was given a birthday gift. "Let's go out and celebrate for it! Get over here, guys."

The Blue Lions awkwardly step around the bush. Byleth feels incredibly amused.

"Ah," Sothis says. "So he was pretending not to see them, too."

"No," Ingrid replies, when she's close enough. "You're gonna bring us to some place that you'll hit on girls. And we'll have to rescue you from every single one of them that takes it harshly."

Sylvain bats his eyes up at her. "Aw, no I'm not! I was thinking of going to a nice little inn that has great meat pies. And even if I was going to hit on girls, aren't most of you trying to become a knight? Isn't it your duty to save me?"

Ingrid, Felix, and Ashe swat him on the arm. He laughs loudly. "Hey! Give me a birthday present before you hit me! Even the professor did!"

Dimitri rolls up his sleeves. "I see," the prince says, cracking his knuckles. He's wearing a playful grin. "How old are you turning again?"

Sylvain, realizing what Dimitri is about to do, gulps audibly. "Zero," he says. "Zero, I am turning zero, I'm actually negative years old-"

"Okay," Annette butts in, but she's holding back laughter. "Okay, no hitting the birthday boy without presents."

"Annette," Sylvain gasps, hand to his heart. "Annette, have I ever told you how much I love you?"

Annette reaches out a takes a cookie from the tray of sweets that Byleth has procured, and hands it to Sylvain. He takes it from her, giving her a confused look. "Happy birthday, that's my present." Annette swats him on the arm.

"Ow!" Sylvain exclaims, even though from the sound, everyone knows that it didn't hurt. Felix cocks his head to one side and picks up the tray of desserts, presenting it to Sylvain, blank faced. Only the edge of his mouth is betraying him.

"Happy birthday," Felix says, shoving the tray into Sylvain's chest. "How many is that?"

"It's none, it's none!" Sylvain leaps out of his chair. "Felix! I love you man, but please have mercy on me- GAH!"

.

Sylvain, through endless pouting, has convinced them all to head out into town for his birthday, where the end destination is apparently a restaurant. 

He's at least happy that the Lions seem to be having fun.

Because Byleth is not.

"Professor!" Annette practically glows with a smile. "Wanna buy me another hair clip? It'll match the one you gave me!"

"Please, professor," Ingrid is saying, "Felix and Dimitri keep asking me for whetstones so I don't have any more- could you please buy me another two? Or three?"

Felix is eyeing the swords on display in the market. "Those look nice," he says simply, then looks at Byleth without saying a word. Byleth has to look away.

Dedue is looking at flower seeds. He's silent, but looking at the flower seeds with apt fondness, which makes Byleth want to buy him all of them.

"Professor, it's my birthday! Buy me this lipstick!" Sylvain picked up a tube of it, winking flirtatiously at the woman manning the stall.

'So I can give it to girls' remains unsaid. Byleth sighs. "Only if you promise to wear it."

All of the Blue Lions are asking for new stuff, and Byleth knows that they're totally incapable of saving. It's the reason why he's the treasurer of sorts- they're all terrible with money, save for Ashe, and Byleth absolutely refuses to discard things until he's used up every part of it. He thinks it's because one had to be constantly frugal on the road- a feeling that Ashe understood well.

Still, knowing that Ashe was so upset these past few days, Byleth had bought him a new book of legends that he had gushed over once he saw it. Ashe, of course, had refused it, and then once Byleth had bought it, thanked him profusely.

And so everyone was assuming that Byleth would all buy things for them. Which meant trouble for Byleth.

"You should buy them all nice things," Sothis is saying, drooling over the street foods they're promoting. "They all worked hard in that last battle!"

_I already gave them at least a bouquet of flowers each._ It was true. Byleth had a bit of a green thumb, and liked to garden with Dedue and the other students whenever possible. He always ended up with armfuls of flowers which he would gift to the students, and then a surprising amount of vegetables, which he used to cook with. The rest was given to the dining hall staff.

Now Sothis is pouting alongside them as well. "I know you have money," Sothis reminds him. "From that bandit battle and from Rhea."

_Saving for the future is important._

"Boooo. Didn't you buy like 10 earthworms the other day? And then you fell asleep on the dock? And Linhardt, who you were fishing with, also fell asleep? And then Caspar woke you both up by yelling?"

_That's besides the point. And earthworms are cheap._

Although Byleth doesn't buy anything without purpose, he decides to indulge his students, at least for today. He buys that whetstone for Ingrid, the seeds for Dedue, a new sword for Felix. He doesn't buy Annette a new hair clip, too expensive, but he does buy her some sort of candied fruit on a stick that she shares with Mercedes. And he doesn't buy Sylvain the lipstick, but he caves and buys him a new handkerchief, which he earns another crooked grin for.

Byleth spots something in the stalls and picks it up, examining it for a moment, before waving Dimitri over. Dimitri was the only one who hadn't seen anything he wanted, so Byleth decided to take it upon himself to buy him something useful.

"Professor? What is it?"

"Put out your hand," Byleth instructs. Dimitri, despite being confused, puts out his hand and Byleth takes it. With the other hand, he slides a silver accuracy ring onto his ring finger. There's a tiny indigo gem in the middle of it, nothing too fancy, but it should work.

Dimitri flushes up to his roots. His other hand grips into his pant leg so tightly Byleth can practically hear the _rip._ Byleth wonders if he should send him back to the academy. This flu doesn't seem to have left him, and it's been a few days. 

"P-professor! I-I! I am, that is to say-" Dimitri seems to choke on his own words. Byleth can practically feel the heat radiating off of his face. "I am so flattered, and unworthy, but our positions- and-"

Frowning, Byleth slides the ring off of his ring finger and places it onto Dimitri's thumb instead. It's a little bit too large for his other finger right now, but it fits his thumb nicely. "There. It fits now. Will you accept it?"

For a brief moment, Dimitri goes quiet, biting down on his lower lip. His hand is shaking. Dimitri seems to be struggling with something again, searching Byleth's gaze. He nods his head quietly, looking down at the floor. "Yes," Dimitri whispers. "Yes."

"Good," Byleth says, relieved now that all of his students had received some sort of gift. "It'll help with your accuracy."

"My what."

From afar, Byleth hears Sylvain burst into horrendously loud laughter. He brushes it off as another one of the boy's antics. "Your accuracy in battle. This ring will help out." He turns to the shop keeper and hands her the correct amount of gold. 

"My... accuracy. This ring is for my accuracy." Dimitri repeats, sounding incredibly lost. "Oh my goddess, what in the world is wrong with me. Of course it wasn't for-"

Byleth nods. "Would you like a critical ring as well? It doesn't matter if it doesn't fit now. You will grow into it."

Sylvain makes a sound like a dying cat. Dimitri smiles at Byleth, dimples flashing again. "Pardon me, professor," Dimitri says pleasantly. "I have to murder Sylvain now."

.

The Blue Lions all push into small benches at wooden tables at the inn, all wide eyed at the sight. People are drinking, and making merry, and dancing and singing. Byleth wonders if they've never been to such a place before.

It's just about time for dinner, so the inn is alive with travelling mercenaries and common folk looking for a good meal, all alike. Sothis is wandering the area, clapping her hands along to songs and making starry eyes at the bar.

Sylvain is waving down a pretty barmaid, who winks at him before coming over. "What can I do ya for, sweetie?" The woman asks, then gasps when she sees Byleth. "Oh my stars! Welcome back! Gonna drink us outta house and home again?"

Byleth's students stare at him, so he holds back a groan before launching into an explanation, leaving out certain parts that he wouldn't expose to them, like the reason why he was at the inn.

A few nights after he had explained his entire situation to his father, Jeralt had rounded up the mercenaries, grabbed Byleth, and headed out into town to grab some drinks in order to 'keep their minds off the situation'. Of course, Jeralt's mercenaries could never say no to free drinks, so they were very excited to go. It had somehow devolved into a drinking competition- while Jeralt could hold his liquor, Byleth was absolutely incapable of feeling any sort of alcohol, no matter how disgusting or potent. He could taste it just fine, but it all went down like water. 

That didn't mean he was completely unaffected, though. Byleth had later found out that it was Sothis who was quite affected- and she felt the effects of the alcohol a few drinks in- passing out in the back of his head. He wonders why.

People were taking bets on them. It was an interesting night, to say the least.

Byleth shakes his head. "No."

"That's too bad," the barmaid says, batting her eyes. "You were such a man."

"What does drinking have to do with manliness?" Sothis demands, suddenly behind Byleth in a flash. "I don't like the way she looks at you. It's the same way that-"

Dimitri clears his throat, a hand running across his new ring, as if confirming that it was still there. "Shall we order, now? I have heard that your meat pies are delicious."

The barmaid simpers at him. "Sure thing, sweetie. Anything else? Drinks? Dessert?"

Sylvain opens his mouth to say something, but Byleth instantly cuts in. "Water. Thank you."

Looking at bit disappointed, the barmaid walks away. Sylvain immediately turns imploring eyes on his professor, a look that has never worked on Byleth. "Come on, professor! It's my birthday!"

"It's a school night," Byleth scolds him, "and you said that you were turning zero. Babies aren't allowed to drink."

Someone kicks Sylvain under the table, and he yelps. "Ow, what was that for! Who was that?"

"Mercedes," Felix says, tone cold. "It was Mercedes."

Playing along, Mercedes frowns at Sylvain, but her twitching mouth betrays her. "It was me," she confesses, falsely. "For your hubris."

"Your hubris," Dedue repeats, and even Felix cannot help his snicker.

The rest of the night goes quite smoothly. Annette leads a 'happy birthday' song when Sylvain gets his meat pie, and the rest of the folks in the house, most of them inebriated, join in. Sylvain flushes- part embarrassment, part happiness, and pretends to blow out a candle that does not exist.

Someone across the inn buys a drink for the birthday boy. For about two seconds, Sylvain looks eager, but Byleth snatches it as soon as it is placed on their table and chugs it without breaking a sweat, wiping away the excess from his mouth. Ashe, who looks amazed, starts clapping, awestruck at the sight.

Sylvain was telling the truth. The meat pies are delicious. Better than the ones at the academy, these ones have fluffy potatoes, a better crunch on the crust, and whatever they put in the meat made it more savoury and satisfying, imploring Byleth to eat more and more.

As soon as they're done eating, Byleth hurries them out of the inn. It's still a school night, after all, and they arrive back at the academy just before curfew. The gatekeeper winks as he lets them in, wishing Sylvain a happy birthday as well.

They all part ways for their respective dorms, and as soon as Byleth reaches his, he collapses onto the bed. Socializing, even with his students, was quite exhausting.

_Sothis? Are you there?_

"'M here!" She announces, materializing next to him on the bed. Byleth blinks. Her face is weirdly flushed.

_Don't tell me that one drink got you drunk._

Sothis laughs, but it's too long and too airy. "It didn't! Silly Byleth! I am a goddess. We cannot get drunk!"

_Okay,_ Byleth replies, because he knows how drunk people are. _You're not drunk._

"May I ask you something?" She asks, her words surprisingly clear. However, she's drawing out every s sound that she makes. It's almost funny.

Byleth nods his head. 

"What do you think a god exists for, Byleth?" Sothis asks, inquisitive. Her gaze is piercing through him. She doesn't wait for an answer. "A god exists for the people."

"What does this have to do... with me?"

Sothis laughs, airy and bright. She pats him delicately on the head, as if soothing a child. "My dear Byleth," she coos, "you are a god."

Byleth frowns. "I'm not."

"You are," she counters immediately. "If you are not a god then am I a mere mortal? Besides, you already have the powers of a goddess."

"Borrowed from you."

Sothis clicks her tongue. "It's not really borrowing if you are _me,_" she insists. "As I am you." 

"I'm not a god," Byleth repeats, sure. "I'm just a mortal."

"Listen," she cuts in, as if she hadn't heard him, "a god exists for the people. Power exists for the people. A god gives life. A god can just as easily take it away. You are your own sort of god."

She kicks her feet out where they dangle over her seat, idyllic. "A god is someone with the power to warp time and space, and who carves out their own fate. A god can grant power, and take it away so very, very easily. All mortals are bound by the fabric of reality." Sothis pokes his chest. "And we are not. You and I are equals."

"I believe that people can make their own fate," Byleth retorts, feeling heat rush to his face.

"Goodness, you are so naive!" It's said lightly, rather than an actual scolding. "Byleth. Do you really think that you wouldn't make the _exact_ same choices in life if you had no idea what was to occur? Even if you chose another house, even if you had decided to take another's hand- guess what! Mostly everything would stay the same! Edelgard would still start a war. Your father would still be killed!"

Her gaze unfocuses, as if Sothis was seeing through time itself. "There are some things that you cannot change without proper knowledge."

"Does this mean this entire endeavor is useless?" Byleth asks, voice shaking. His hands clench into fists.

Sothis hums. "You're not getting my point. It should be useless. In fact, you should have no knowledge of what comes to pass. But you are me. And I am you. Our power is equal."

Byleth shakes his head, and Sothis sighs, slumping in her seat. "You are powerful," Sothis reminds him. "Even if I wanted to grant this Divine Pulse to others, they wouldn't be able to use it. You exert a command over your men people are jealous over, not to mention your swordsmanship. People are in awe of you. Almighty. Well loved. Well respected. Righteous. That's true power."

Reaching down for Byleth's hand, she gently uncurls his fingers from his tight fist and places her hand in his. "A god exists for the people," she repeats. "A god can only go so far with power alone. Without equality and mutual respect, there is no difference between a god and a mortal and a master and their slave."

"Everyone follows your lead, Byleth," Sothis continues, squeezing his hand. "Everyone wants your approval, wants your respect, wants you to look upon them with kind eyes. Everyone believes in something or someone. And a lot of people believe in you. Past and present."

"That's not-"

"The same?" Sothis giggles. "Perhaps not. Gods are only gods when they are referred to as such. You have a power that even gods would bow down to."

"Sothis, I have no idea what you're talking about," Byleth replies, genuinely confused. "I am very lost. I don't understand..."

She shoots him a little smile that Byleth translates to mean that she will not explain anything. "That's alright. I am you. We can learn this together. I am already learning so much- from the past and present, and from the people around us."

Still confused, Byleth sits contentedly in blessed silence with Sothis before he speaks again.

"Do you love them?" Byleth asks, curious.

Sothis scoffs. "Of course I love your precious students. And the staff, and o- your father, of course. It's not just because I am you. They're all dedicated, close-knit people whom we have watched over and helped grow. Or helped us in turn. And they..." Sothis stops. "They love you in turn. You- we are surrounded by such loving people, Byleth. They love and care so deeply for those they hold dear. It's insane. That I could feel so deeply for those who do not even know that I am there..."

Their fingers interlock. "I am here," Byleth whispers. 

"I know," Sothis replies. "I know. Sometimes- sometimes I dream of days where you and I grew up together, like siblings. Where we were really siblings, really a family. Where we would learn to fight together under father, and where I would tease you for a blank stare and you would tease me right back for some other nonsensical reason- and where we would go to the academy together."

Byleth doesn't comment on the fact that Sothis referred to Jeralt as her father as well. 

"What would you teach?"

"I wouldn't teach," Sothis replies. "I would replace that crusty librarian- he's already gone- and spend my days reading about places of the world. Or I would teach choir and sing until my throat refused to. I don't know. It's a fool's wish."

Shaking his head, Byleth grips her hand tighter. "It's not. It's a wonderful wish. But..." Byleth clears his throat. "But some of it has already been granted, has it not?"

He waits for Sothis to compose herself. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Byleth tries to say, voice higher than normal. "I mean I think we're already family. Siblings, maybe. Something like that."

A shuddering, shaking gasp. 

"You are a fool," Sothis breathes out. "An absolute fool. God or mortal."

And then she passes out, snoring lightly. 

Byleth blinks, surprised, and then chuckles lightly, positioning her on the bed so that she's lying on a pillow, and tucked nicely under the blankets.

"I envy your dreams, Sothis," Byleth whispers, aloud. It's so quiet, he wonders if he's even said it. 

Whenever his eyes close, Byleth sees Dima. Every single time. He doesn't know if it's a blessing or a curse. He doesn't know if he wants to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this, like the holy tomb chapter, is one of the chapters that was affectionately titled These Actions Will Have Consequences. dont think that by is done with solon just yet. and don't think that he ain't the only one.
> 
> WOW GUYS THIS WAS A PLOT CHAPTER. SOME PARTS MAY NOT HAVE SEEMED LIKE IT BUT I CAN ASSURE YOU THAT IT WAS. IF YOU'RE GONNA THINK ABOUT ANY OF THESE I WANT YOU TO THINK ABOUT THE CONSEQUENCES OF  
-byleth killing solon early  
-the ring  
-sothis' words
> 
> AAAAAAAA i had a lot of fun with this chapter but it was also v agonizing i was suffering through the characterization and UGH
> 
> thank you so very much for reading!
> 
> byleth/dimitri C+ rank  
byleth/dedue C+ rank  
byleth/felix C+ rank  
byleth/annette C+ rank  
byleth/ingrid C+ rank  
byleth/sylvain C+ rank  
byleth/mercedes C+ rank  
byleth/ashe C+ rank
> 
> byleth/linhardt C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/claude ??? rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea C rank


	7. dearly beloved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EVERYONE STOP WHAT YOU'RE FUCKING DOING AND LOOK AT THIS BEAUTIFUL BLESSED ART THAT THE LOVELY AYSRIN HAS MADE FOR THIS FIC HOLY FUCK THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU SO MUCH I THINK I TEARED UP WHEN I FIRST SAW IT 
> 
> https://aysrin.tumblr.com/post/187546514862/blue-lion-cubs-still-killing-me-her-ecomic-from
> 
> if any of yall made content for this fic, please let me know im on tumblr under the same username quags1re im literally crying thank you all so so much for the support i am so very grateful every single time you dont even know THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU MY GRATEFULNESS AND LOVE FOR YALL IS NEVER ENDING

When Byleth bursts into the classroom, soaked in the sudden shower of rain, he happens upon an odd sight.

"Will you accept this quill, Annette?" Sylvain is asking, sliding it into her palm. He's chuckling so hard his shoulders are shaking. For some reason, all of the Blue Lions are just watching it happen, including a snickering Ingrid, a Mercedes trying not to laugh, and a fiery, red faced Dimitri.

Annette sighs, then bats her eyes dramatically, looking down at the floor and then up. "Yes," Annette says, her voiced pitched higher than normal. "Yes."

"Stop that at once!" Dimitri- well, Byleth would never think that Dimitri would whine, but his tone sure sounded like he just did. Dedue doesn't even look like he's trying to intervene. Byleth knows him well enough to realize that the man is highly amused. "I do not sound at all like that!"

"You need to sound more soft," Ashe adds, laughing into his hand. "More yearning. More eager." It sounds as if he's quoting something from some sort of novella.

"He means more _pathetic,_" Felix cuts in, looking smug. "Did you see the stupid look on his face when the professor-"

"When I what?"

All of the Blue Lions scramble to their seats. Byleth sighs, wiping a stray droplet off of his cheek. "Sorry for being late."

"It's alright, professor," Dimitri squeaks, still entirely red. 

Byleth gives him a cursory once-over that makes the boy shake in his seat. "I've told you that if you are feeling unwell, that you must go to a healer at once."

"He's fine," Ingrid insists, giving the prince a look. "He's not sick." Dimitri shoots her a half-smile.

Sylvain coughs long and loud into his hand. "Well, depending on your definition of sick, loves-"

"Sylvain!" Dimitri exclaims, voice squeaky. 

"Settle down, everyone," Byleth cuts in, voice low. "Sylvain, don't antagonize Dimitri."

Despite Dimitri's scolding and Byleth's intervention, Sylvain still looks quite pleased. He leans back in his chair with a smirk. "Got it, got it."

With everyone settled, Byleth straightens at the front of the room. "We were going to use the training grounds today, but it's raining, so we cannot." Byleth's eyes narrow at the prince. "I do not desire that any of you become ill. Let's focus on your skills."

The class is long and arduous today. Byleth can hear the gentle pitter pat of the rainfall, soft against the walls of the classroom. Sometimes, it's loud enough to drive out his already quiet voice. He sighs.

"That's five," Ingrid pipes up, and then quickly covers her mouth. "My apologies!"

Byleth turns away from the board to look at the girl. "Sorry?" He asks, inquisitive.

When Ingrid realizes that her professor isn't upset with her accidentally speaking aloud, she continues. "That's five times that you've sighed today, professor. Anything wrong?"

For a moment, Byleth weighs the consequences of telling this truth in his mind, then decides that there's no harm against telling them.

"I don't like rain," Byleth says simply.

Mercedes, who would always fret over everyone's wellbeing, blinks at the easy statement. "Is that really all?"

_To think that the first time I saw you cry... your tears would be for me._

_But you seem to have all the answers... So tell me, professor. Please tell me... How do I silence their desperate pleas? How do I... How do I save them?_

"That's all," Byleth replies. 

The Blue Lions shoot each other a few looks that do not go unnoticed by Byleth, so he hurriedly tries to change the topic. "I am more of a snow person myself."

"You would like the Kingdom," Dimitri says, "perhaps you should visit sometime!" Byleth watches Dimitri valiantly ignore the smug looks he's receiving from the rest of his classmates.

"I've been to the Kingdom for missions," Byleth replies, "and the morning that I met you, Dimitri, we were heading out to the Faerghus for another."

"What did you think of it?" The prince blurts out, then frowns, as if he wasn't meant to say anything. 

Fhirdiad was a beautiful place. Too bad Byleth's most prominent memories of it was the mocking, sneering face of Cornelia and the golems she'd wielded as a guide. Sothis reaches down, _down_ into memories that Byleth didn't even realize that'd he'd forgotten.

His father was right. He really was a forgetful person.

"I believe I went skating there as a child," Byleth says, blinking past the surge of sudden memories. "Other than missions, I mean. I liked the idea of knife shoes."

Byleth remembers staring up into a gray sky, snowflakes falling down, down. It feels as if these memories don't actually belong to him. "I wasn't very good at it, however."

"We should go back to the capital together then," Dimitri blurts, looking flustered. "I can teach you how to skate, and I would be most happy to show you around! Fhirdiad is a beautiful place. I am most certain we can find many things that you will enjoy about it."

All of the Blue Lions are shooting Dimitri a smug look. The prince hurries to correct himself, and snaps his quill in half by accident. "Forgive my forward nature!" Dimitri says, face pink. "I do not wish to pressure you into anything-"

"I would like to go," Byleth replies, before Dimitri can backtrack on the prompt. Perhaps this time, he would be able to take Dimitri's hand. "It has been a long time since I have been anywhere without needing to do a mission first."

Dimitri sits up straighter in his seat. "Good." He breathes, crushing the remaining pieces of the quill in one hand. "That's good! I'll be looking forward to it, then!"

"Good for you, your highness," Dedue says, the tiniest tug at his lip. "But maybe let go of the quill."

"Not you too," Dimitri replies with a groan. 

Byleth watches the entire interaction, still entirely confused. It seemed as if there were still things that Byleth did not understand about his students.

.

"My, professor!" Flayn exclaims, lifting her cup of tea to her lips. "It smells exquisite! How did you become so well versed in the art of brewing tea? And how did you figure out which tea is my favourite?"

Byleth shrugs. "Think nothing of it, Flayn. A lucky guess."

She takes a sip of the sweet-apple blend, and gasps when it hits her tongue. "Mm, wonderful," she praises, kicking out her feet from under the table. "You have been so very kind to me, professor. The tea, the sweets, the gifts... Well, I dare say this set up would be perfect if not for one thing."

"What?"

Flayn levels a glare at the other man sitting on the other side of her. "The unwanted company," she hisses, turning her nose up at her brother.

Seteth takes a sip of his own tea. "Please, continue on with your conversation as if I were not here. I am just making sure that there are no untoward advances toward Flayn." At this, he shoots Byleth a heady glare.

"Brother!" Flayn snaps. "You're embarrassing me in front of the professor!"

"Why would there be anything embarrassing about this?" Seteth asks, oblivious to her discomfort. Or perhaps ignoring it. "We are simply sharing a bit of tea."

"That's not the issue here!"

Byleth slouches in his seat, letting the father-daughter argument wash over his head. He really didn't want to get involved. 

After the mass that Rhea had held, Byleth had stopped Flayn after the choir finished singing and asked her if she wanted to join him for tea. Of course, as soon as she agreed, Seteth had appeared as if out of nowhere and barged on into their plans. 

Which had led to the three of them sharing a very awkward tea time in one of the pavilions.

"This tea is subpar," Seteth says, as if Byleth didn't know how to blend tea specifically for each person he knew, and as if Byleth didn't know how to read the man by now. In truth, Byleth feels quite offended. 

Flayn takes another huge gulp of tea. "Are you saying that my favourite tea is subpar, brother?"

The next few minutes are spent by Seteth hurriedly apologizing to Flayn, who ignores and swiftly dodges every attempt at his forgiveness.

"My gift was better, right Flayn?" Seteth demanded, eyes wide and inquiring. Flayn's eyes sparkle. 

"I liked professor Byleth's fishing lure better," Flayn declared, presenting it to Seteth proudly. "It's one I've never used before, so I am quite excited about it!"

Sothis, who was busy trying to pick up the cookies from the tray, smirked wide at Seteth, who was practically vibrating with anger. "Ooh. I do believe that he is getting angry."

As if on cue, Seteth stands from his seat. "Fine then! Professor Byleth, you and I will hold a fishing competition! The victor with the best fish will present their catch to Flayn." He turns to the girl. "Flayn, I will prove that I am a far superior gift giver than this man."

He stomps off to the fishing pond. Byleth and Flayn share a look. "Please ignore him, professor," Flayn sighs. "He's always been a bit overprotective. You do not have to feel as if you must indulge him."

"I like fishing," Byleth replies, and follows after the man. The Blue Lions, who were all hiding in the bushes, peel away from their camouflage and follow their professor, intrigued. Flayn jumps at their sudden appearance.

"Were you all just in the bushes?"

.

"Brother," Flayn begins, an odd look on her face. "I appreciate... your efforts, but you are quite terrible at fishing."

They're sitting next to each other on the docks, where Byleth has amassed an entire basket of large fish and where Seteth has caught none. The Blue Lions, who have given up all illusion of hiding, along with a few other students from other houses, are watching the spectacle. Byleth is pretending to not see money exchange hands.

"I am perfectly capable of fishing," Seteth replies, as Byleth reels in yet another platinum fish. 

Flayn nods slowly. "I see. Well then, why have you not caught a single one yet?"

Calmly, Byleth frees the hook from the fish's jaw and tosses it into the basket. "The professor is throwing off my concentration," Seteth accuses. 

"Would you look at that," Sothis observes, peering into the depths of the pond. "It seems as if the fish are blatantly ignoring Seteth's bait!"

"Am I really?" Byleth asks, bringing the basket over to count the fish that he's amassed. "Then perhaps I should move out of the way." With extra exaggeration in his movements, he counts out every fish individually, noting Seteth's scowl.

"Perhaps that would be best," Seteth responds, tilting his chin up in a show of false pride. 

Byleth stands from where he was sitting at the docks and makes a show of brushing himself off, which makes Flayn giggle. He can't help it. First, his tea making skills were critiqued, and next his fishing skills. Besides his swordsmanship and other such mastery over weapons, such skills were ones he took immense pride in. He waves over his students with a beckoning hand. "Would you like to fish as well?" He asks, handing them all fishing rods. 

"You are so petty," Sothis accuses, as the Blue Lions reel in their own fish. Byleth shrugs. At least there would be a feast of fish that night.

.

Over the feast of fish, Flayn leans over the table in an attempt to whisper something to Byleth in a hushed voice. "Thank you for the extraordinary day, professor. Seeing my brother worked up like that was quite hilarious. You know, he thinks highly of you as well, right?"

Byleth has to swallow a bite of stewed fish before he answers. "I don't think that you are correct."

Flayn gives him a look that gives Byleth the impression that she is much, much older than what appears to be her years. "I've known him for a long time. I know my brother very, very well. I am not the only one that he desires to impress."

She gives a glance to the rest of the Blue Lions, who are digging into the meal with increased vigor, and her brother, who is still slaving away at the stove, hellbent to create the perfect fish dish for Flayn. "I feel as if it is always a fun day around you, professor. It seems as if so many exciting things revolve around you and your students. I would really love to join- no. Let's save that for another day, shall we? I should discuss with my brother first."

With a satisfied look, Flayn leans back in her seat and tucks into her meal. Byleth has more questions than answers, but decides to follow her lead. All of these fish were calling to him, after all.

.

Byleth feels as if he's giving all of the students odd impressions about him. On free days, he would always want to give out gifts to the Blue Lions for working so hard, such as flowers and little trinkets, but he didn't want to neglect the other students as well. But now Byleth feels as if he's giving these students odd expectations.

For example, just the other day, he had returned a lost item to Ignatz and he had responded in the most odd way possible. 

"Ah! I knew you would find this if I wasn't able to, professor. Thank you!" Ignatz had said, cradling his lost work of art in his arms. Did the students just expect Byleth to know where their lost items were at all times?

He would present Dorothea a bouquet of flowers and she would already be holding out her arms, as if expectant of the gifts. "Ah, always on time!" She had stated, looking quite pleased. "I was wondering whether or not you would deliver all the forget-me-nots you planted to Mercedes or Annette. I'll be sure to make good use of these flowers as always. I've already got perfume ideas for the next ones!"

Another time, Byleth would walk up to Lorenz, intent on celebrating his birthday, and he immediately focused on Byleth with a piercing gaze. "What sort of tea were you planning on making for me today?" Lorenz demanded, as if he were already aware of Byleth's intentions. 

"Either bergamot or a seiros tea," Byleth responds, automatically. "But I also found a rose petal blend that I was sure that you would enjoy."

Satisfied with that answer and looking quite eager, Lorenz nods. "I see. How befitting. It seems as if the rumours are true. You are quite talented at spoiling the students. Well then, let's hurry along. I am most eager to taste your excellent tea brewing."

Even the Blue Lions seemed quite pleased about these sorts of interactions and gifts, even if they were not the sole focus. He had once spotted Ashe, Caspar and Linhardt at the dining hall sharing a meal, where Ashe then proceeded to brag about how Byleth would praise them for a job well done in class, and then usually present them with more gifts and flowers.

"I once got patted on the head," Ashe said, as if to boast about such an action.

"Luuucky," Caspar groaned, looking jealous, of all things. Linhardt put a hand to his chin, as if deep in thought.

"I wonder if I would be patted on the head as well if I were in your class..." Linhardt asked, trailing off at the end. "Maybe professor Byleth would let me nap..."

But wasn't that completely normal?! To want to praise your students?! And reward them for a job well done?

It was just plain odd how everyone was acting.

He decides to ask Sothis about it, as he's harvesting roses in the garden with Dimitri, Felix, and Dedue.

_Sothis?_

"Yes?"

_Am I spoiling my students that much?_

Sothis slaps the back of his head. "Yes, of course you are! Are you just that oblivious that you've never noticed it?!"

_I am not oblivious._

"Yes you are," Sothis immediately countered, still admiring the roses. "Denial is unhealthy. I do not understand how one living being can go around and live their lives while being so incredibly, painfully obtuse!"

"Professor," Dimitri crosses the greenhouse to present Byleth with several gorgeous red roses. "Here. For- for you."

"Thank you, Dimitri," Byleth replies, eyes still on the seeds he's sowing in the ground. "Would you mind putting them with the rest of the flowers in that pile over there?"

"Ah." Dimitri takes a huge breath, seeming to be quite nervous, something Byleth doesn't have to see in order to feel. "Actually. Professor, these roses are for you! For all of your hard work. And, and! For always looking after me- us! Looking after us. Yes."

Felix wipes dirt away from his brow before speaking up. "Are you seriously trying to gift the professor roses that he grew?"

"Felix," Dedue murmurs, low but still audible.

"Well he is," Felix immediately bites back. "The boar is literally trying to give the professor-"

"Felix," Byleth chides, finally finished with the row of seeds he was planting. He stands and wipes the dirt off of his clothes. "Do not call him boar."

Felix bites down on his lower lip, but says nothing else. Satisfied, Byleth turns to Dimitri, who's visage matches the colour of the roses. He's crushed the rose stems in one hand.

Byleth sighs, but it's a fond sound. "Thank you, Dimitri. For the roses."

"My pleasure," he squeaks out. He reaches out the fist that's crushing the flowers, presenting them proudly. Byleth can't help but notice that the thorns have already been meticulously removed. 

He strips off his gardening gloves to take the roses from him. "Thank you again," Byleth repeats, to reassure the boy. When Dimitri doesn't let go of the roses, Byleth gives him a puzzled stare.

All of the red has left his face. "Professor?! You're married!?" Dimitri exclaims, looking incredibly shocked. His eyes are wider than Byleth's ever seen them. Byleth follows his gaze down to the ring he wears.

"Ah," Byleth says simply. "I am not married."

"T-then why are you wearing such a ring?" Dimitri asks- _demands,_ crushing the rose stems even more. Byleth winces at the sight. 

"This was my father's engagement ring to my mother," Byleth explains, sliding the ring off to show Dimitri properly. Like little ducklings, Dedue and Felix cross the greenhouse to take a look at the ring as well. "I am meant to present this ring to the one I want to marry- but right now I am just wearing it."

The prince seems to breathe a sigh of relief. "I see now. Thank you for clarifying."

Sliding the ring back onto his finger, Byleth shrugs. "Why do you ask?"

Once more, his pale face flushes with fierce colour. "Well-"

"Hey," Felix cuts in, "doesn't your precious little ring have sort of the same colour as the professor's?" The boy looks smug about the observation, shooting Dimitri a look.

"Dimitri's ring has a little gem that matches one of the colours on Byleth's," Dedue agrees, looking straight at the prince, who is very blatantly ignoring their gazes.

Byleth takes Dimitri's free hand, the one without the crushed roses, and swiftly takes off the gardening gloves. "Professor!" He exclaims, sounding embarrassed. 

"Forgive me," Byleth responds, letting go of Dimitri's hand. "I didn't mean to touch you so familiarly."

Dimitri squeezes his eyes shut. His next words sound like a wheeze. "I don't mind you touching me-! Wait, pretend I didn't say that-!" Felix laughs loudly, the sound bright. Dedue is too busy trying to cover up his own smile to admonish Felix from laughing again. 

Dimitri presents his free hand back to Byleth, who, after another moment, decides to take it again. His hands are pleasantly cool, and he yelps at the touch of their hands.

Felix barks out a laugh that turns into a cough when Dedue elbows him.

"You're right," Byleth replies, after he's regarded the ring again, sliding it off and then back on. "There are some familiar colours. It's almost as if we're matching!"

"That's great," Dimitri replies, sounding faint. He finally passes the flowers to Byleth. "I am going to sit down now." He sinks down onto the floor, next to the flowers, looking as if the wind was knocked out of him.

Byleth watches him sit there for a moment.

Felix rolls his eyes. "Can't believe you talked me into this and now I've been forced to witness this entire mess..." Felix grumbles, yet still harvests the crops efficiently.

"Please do not worry about his highness," Dedue says to Byleth, with a short little bow. "He is experiencing some new emotions."

"Okay." With that reassurance out of the way, Byleth continues to pile roses and other flowers into a basket, as well as fruits and vegetables into another for easier sorting.

He takes a few of the biggest roses and places them gently into a pile. "Who are those for, professor?" Dedue asks, voice low and quiet. "I am sure that you'll give out many flowers, like always."

"Edelgard-"

"Edelgard?!" Dimitri demands, shooting straight up from his seat. "_Edelgard?!_"

Giving Dimitri an odd look, Byleth nods. "I do believe her birthday is soon."

"You are not giving Edelgard flowers," Sothis hisses. "I absolutely forbid it! Do you not remember what she's done? What's she's doing right now? What she's about to do to you and the rest of Fódlan?!"

_Sothis..._

"Don't speak to me like that! It is I who should be speaking to you in that tone! Have you forgotten the pain? The suffering? The years of war and oppression?" Sothis snaps, genuinely angry. 

_I would like to find the most peaceful way to resolve this situation._

Sothis snorts, floating in front of Byleth's face as to ensure that all of his attention rested there. "A few measly flowers are not about to stop her war. She will not bend. The only way to stop her is if she breaks. Don't be naive. You cannot find a way to take everyone's hand."

_But I-_

"Who is your top priority?" Sothis demands. "Who are you trying to protect? Who is in the way of those plans?"

Byleth pauses. _I want to protect the ones I love._

"Then act like it," Sothis reprimands. "She must bend to your will, or break against it. Is your resolve that weak so that you will lose against some weak feelings? We have seen that she is capable of rising against all challenges, including cutting down those that she once held dear. Will you rise to her challenge? Or are you still unable to cut a path of your own, even with the answers laid before you?"

Byleth doesn't get a chance to answer.

"Professor?" Dimitri asks, "did you hear my question?"

"No," Byleth says, tone even. "Would you please repeat it for me?"

"Why are you giving Edelgard- rather, why are you giving the students these gifts?" Byleth raises a single brow.

"Do you not enjoy them?" Byleth turns the question back on him. 

"It's not that," Dimitri immediately says, rushing in to deny the words. "It's just- what do you gain from this?"

Both Byleth and Sothis cock their head to one side.

Felix sighs. "The boar means to ask why you're doing all of this. You don't have to give us gifts. You don't have to grow all these flowers. You don't have to butter us up after we do well in class. So why?"

"Why not?" Byleth responds, genuinely confused. "You all deserve nice things."

For some reason, no one can say anything back.

.

"Happy birthday," Byleth announces, presenting the roses to Edelgard. He ignores the increasingly loud complaints from Sothis, which only double in creativity and volume, and ignores the way the Blue Lions are all peering around a pillar.

After a debate with Sothis, they had made a compromise- flowers were fine, but no tea time. Which was fine with Byleth. Truth be told, Byleth was also not entirely comfortable with the idea of conversing over tea with Edelgard.

Hubert is glaring at him- or perhaps that's just his face. Byleth has no room to judge. 

Edelgard takes the bouquet of roses, smells them, and grants Byleth a small smile, half hidden behind the roses. "Thank you, professor. I'm glad that you remembered my birthday."

Over the increasing pressure of Sothis' anger in his mind, Byleth offers a short nod, then turns on his heel to walk away.

"Will you not invite me to tea?" Edelgard interrupts, face still half covered by red roses. "I hear that is the sort of thing you always do on birthdays."

If Byleth possessed a heartbeat, it would likely stop in this moment.

Sothis stops the pressure to scream. "This was a mistake! I told you, I told you so! Divine Pulse! Byleth, so help me, if you do not use a Divine Pulse-"

"I do not know your favourite tea," Byleth replies smoothly, over Sothis' yelling and the panic of the Blue Lions behind the pillar. They're all shoving at each other to get a better view, save for Dedue, who has given up all pretense of hiding.

"I hear that's another one of your talents," Edelgard continues, gaze evaluating. "Knowing exactly what tea someone desires, and then brewing it to their liking, despite them not telling you what blend they desire."

"It's all in the eyes," Byleth answers, tone unreadable. It's hard to hear himself over Sothis' screeching and the loud hushing coming from the Blue Lions, courtesy of Annette.

Edelgard's eyes seem to sparkle. "Is that so? And what are my eyes telling you?"

"They're telling us that you should really, really go now, Byleth!" Sothis hisses, practically vibrating with tension.

Byleth tilts his head to one side. "Bergamot."

He spots a wider smile behind her roses. "Impressive," Edelgard compliments. "Truly, a man of many talents. Well then, if you know what tea I desire, then let us-"

"Lady Edelgard," Hubert cuts in, leveling another glare at Byleth. "Let us depart for our meal."

Sothis sighs in relief, so loudly that Byleth can hardly believe that no one has heard it. "Of all people, I cannot believe that Hubert is saving us."

Edelgard glances up at Hubert, her face falling a little. "Very well." She turns back on Byleth, and immediately Sothis seems to rumble angrily at the back of his mind. "You see, Hubert here does not want us to spend time together. You'll have to forgive him for that."

Hubert's face warps. "Lady Edelgard-"

The future emperor hides a giggle. "Yes, Hubert. We may go now." The pair of them brush past Byleth, and Byleth forces himself to refuse to relax.

"Oh, and," Edelgard continues, looking back to Byleth, "we will have tea one of these days. Invite me again after your mission, will you not? I have a feeling that you and I would have many things to talk about."

With that, they finally leave, the echo of their footsteps filling the halls.

Sothis is cheering.

Byleth's eyes turn to where the Blue Lions are trying to hide. "Come out now," he says, and the Blue Lions step out from behind the pillar, looking incredibly sheepish. Even Felix is refusing to meet his gaze.

He allows them to uncomfortably squirm under his eyes for a few moments more, before breathing out a little puff of air. "We should eat as well," Byleth declares, and all the tension is visibly sucked out of the Blue Lions.

Byleth wishes he could say the same for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah, this chapter was like sort of filler. still, i do hope that y'all enjoyed! i think this chapter was necessary lol. i was so happy when you all loved that ring scene- i was straight up dying while writing it lol
> 
> i have also noticed that many of you say that this fic is really funny! im very glad that you enjoy my humor lmao! thank you ♡♡♡
> 
> i hope you all enjoyed this happy chapter because next chapter will not be happy! :) :) :) get ready for the major angst tag to shine! ♡ thank you for reading!
> 
> byleth/dimitri C+ rank  
byleth/dedue C+ rank  
byleth/felix C+ rank  
byleth/annette C+ rank  
byleth/ingrid C+ rank  
byleth/sylvain C+ rank  
byleth/mercedes C+ rank  
byleth/ashe C+ rank
> 
> byleth/linhardt C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/claude ??? rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea C rank


	8. two time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why is this chapter so fucking long. oh my fucking god. it's like 10k i fucking akhsksjjakskjzkzkjs
> 
> I BLAME THE FIRST PART'S EXISTENCE ENTIRELY ON THE DISCORD SERVER. THEY SHOULD HAVE STOPPED ME OKAY IT'S THEIR FAULT also shoutout to the ones that helped me name ashe's siblings, save for the ones that suggested brock and pikachu and made think about it the entire time wkhssk you know who you are
> 
> honestly im disappointed in myself. i wanted to make this angstier. 
> 
> AGAIN THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH FOR ALL YOUR SUPPORT LIKE DKAHSKAAHSKSKSKJXJJS YOU ALL ARE TOO SWEET, TOO GOOD TO ME

In his past life, Byleth only remembered a few of his dreams. The dreams, although sparse, were as vivid as midday. He can recall telling his father about these dreams- of war, and eventually, of Sothis.

Byleth isn't aware that his dreams are actually dreams until he's aware of everything _wrong_ about them.

He's sitting on a plush chair in the dining hall with a feast laid out in front of him, a napkin tied around his neck. His feet do not touch the floor. A grand lion is sprawled across his lap, head resting between the cradle of his thighs, the rest of its body on the floor. He- and Byleth is sure that the lion is a he- is fast asleep.

A single dish is laid out in front of him, covered by a white sheet. The rest of the dishes are on the other side of the table, and they seem to drift farther and farther away the more Byleth stares at them. They look delicious. The covered plate does not.

From the corners of the dining hall, a singular doe limps its way to the table, pressing its nose to Byleth's face before reaching down to the table with an open mouth and yanking away the cloth with their teeth.

A dead eagle is lain across the plate.

For some inexplicable reason, Byleth's stomach rumbles. The lion wakes up. Byleth reaches out with a fork and knife and makes a delicate cut across the wing, cutting off a slice.

Red spills out from the wound. It pools in his plate, and then down to the floor, down, down, until it's high enough to touch his feet. When it makes contact with Byleth, it twines gently up his legs like vines. The crimson liquid does not stain the lion, but it tugs at his legs, insistent on his attention.

Byleth feeds the lion the piece.

He savors the bite, rumbling approvingly. Blood drips out of his mouth and onto his mane.

"What is this?" Sothis asks, suddenly behind Byleth. Surprised, Byleth drops the fork and knife onto the table, and the entire table collapses in onto itself, sinking into the red below.

The lion growls at the intruder, but one proper look at Sothis and he ceases the noise. He disappears, as if he'd never existed.

"Sothis," Byleth says. "I think this is a dream."

She puts her hands on her hips. "You think?!"

Byleth winces. "I had only just realized it."

Sothis sighs, long and loud. "Well then. Where even are we? It seems as though you will not be waking up anytime soon."

When Byleth stands from his chair, it sinks into the ground. For a moment, it looks like the throne in the Holy Tomb. "It looks like the dining hall," he replies. 

She gives him a look that makes him feel like he was shriveling up and dying. "Astute observation."

He shrugs. "My dream."

"Perhaps you're just always hungry, and that's why we're here," Sothis says, as the scenery shifts, so quickly that Byleth feels dizzy. They're standing in Gronder field. "Or not."

Right next to them are a pair of men, one kneeling on the ground, the other standing above him. 

"Ah," Sothis gasps, when she realizes who they are. "Isn't that-?

Dima is kneeling before Byleth, looking up at him with a single, reverent eye. He's crying, covered in gore and blood and filth, the golden hue of his hair tainted by a smear of dirt and grime. 

A wide smile is pulled taut across his face. He's blushing, grabbing onto Byleth's thighs as if he were an untrained dog, eager to please and desperate for attention.

The Byleth standing before him draws his sword out of his scabbard, the metal singing as it rings in the air. 

It's dripping something pitch black. 

Whatever is oozing out of the blade, it's so dark that Byleth can see his reflection upon the surface, and it's thick and slow, sliding down the weapon in an almost teasing manner. Almost like honey, but spun out of the night sky.

Dimitri cups his hands out to the point of the sword to catch the oozing mess and- _licks it off of his hands_ with such enthusiasm that it's almost unbearable to watch- like Byleth was intruding on some sort of sacred moment. He doesn't let a single drop free. When he's cleaned up the sleeping darkness covering his palms, he reaches up to the blade with trembling hands and brings it to his lips.

Sothis gives him a look which Byleth feels deeply offended by.

"I don't know what's happening either," Byleth hisses.

At the sound of his voice, Dima turns toward Byleth with a flushed face and a happy, dopey grin. "Professor," Dima drawls, drawing out the syllables. "Come a little closer, please. Don't you want to see me come undone before you?"

Byleth blinks.

The other Byleth uses his free hand to cup Dima's face, and Dima shudders into his touch. 

Sothis covers her face with her hands. "I cannot watch this," she shrieks into her palms. "I cannot watch this, there is no possible way that you could force me to watch this."

On the opposite spectrum, Byleth cannot bring himself to look away.

"What are you, Byleth?" Dima asks him, still arching into his palm. His tone is a sweet lull, coaxing, as if pulling away every part of Byleth that does not wish to be seen. The darkness is seeping from the other Byleth's hands now, which makes Dima pant, flushing deeper and deeper. "What are you?"

"Your sword," the other Byleth replies. Byleth wonders if he's always sounded that cold. "I am your sword."

Sothis peers through her fingers.

Dima takes the hand and presses it to his mouth, dragging the fingers over his lips and smearing the dripping, yearning, endless darkness there. "You are my god," Dima replies, tone reverent, filled with worship, dripping with as much darkness as the sword and Byleth's hand-

The look in his eye is haunting.

"That's enough," Sothis snaps, "wake up, Byleth. These dreams are nothing to you. Wake, now. There is a Dima that needs you."

The statement is enough to snap Byleth out of whatever trance he's been put under. "You're right, I apologize." Byleth swallows, and his throat feels dry. "Sothis-"

When he turns, Sothis is no longer there. Byleth is no longer in Gronder field, but in the Goddess tower, and Dima's forehead is pressed to his own.

They're so close, Byleth is acutely aware of the powerful line of his body, the hands on his waist, Dima's pulse breathing life into Byleth's chest. Dima's hands are rubbing small circles into Byleth's waist, and his single eye is alight with depths Byleth cannot look into lest he drown within them.

So close, that there is not even tension between them. So close, that Dima could steal a kiss from Byleth's lips. So close, that every breath shared is provocative, tempting.

"How long are you going to pretend that you don't want me?" Dima asks, searching Byleth's visage for- _for something-_ "I have never taken you for the type to play games, professor. To tease."

His hands tighten around his hips, but in doing so, Byleth only feels more secure. "A tease?" Byleth prompts, barely a whisper. 

"It's unbearable," Dima remarks, "that we are yet so close, and that your heart is so far away. Choose me, professor. I am right here, and I love-"

Byleth's eyes squeeze shut. "Please don't say it. I am unworthy of such words. I left you behind, after all."

Dima grants him a smile that is so soft and tender around the edges that Byleth can feel himself melting in his embrace. "Byleth," Dima replies, bringing one hand up to his heart. "I am right here."

Byleth scoffs.

"You're not my Dima anyway," Byleth says, before the Goddess tower crumbles around them. Knowing this, he still doesn't move away. "Dima would never say such things. I need to leave you now."

Dima chuckles, and that alluring darkness spills from underneath his eyepatch. "Then you still have yet to understand me. As long as we're still under the same sky, we'll meet again." He presses a brief kiss to Byleth's forehead. "I will be waiting."

.

Byleth wakes up.

This is not an unusual thing for him to do, but Sothis is hovering over him with a worried face, so he sits up as quickly as he can. "What's wrong?" Byleth demands, his voice as even as possible. For some reason, his brain goes to the worst places instantly- Edelgard's war, declared early, someone dying, someone dying in Edelgard's war-

"The room next door is making weird noises," Sothis hisses. "Isn't that Dedue's room?"

Byleth immediately leaps out of bed, night clothes be damned, grabbing his sword and storming out the door. In a few quick strides, Byleth reaches Dedue's door and slams it open-

Only to see Dimitri kneeling over Sylvain's body on the floor, a pillow raised to the heavens as if to strike him down with one blow. Pillows are strewn across the room. The rest of the Blue Lions, including a safe-looking Dedue and an Ashe swallowed by blankets on the bed, are flushed, laughing at the sight. They all turn to see Byleth, sword in hand, at the door, and their laughter stops.

The Blue Lions all look rather cozy. There's blankets and pillows strewn across the room, likely taken from their respective dorms, and there's two trays with drinks on top of the desk, as well as some cookies. They're all in their night clothes, and most of them, like Ashe, are huddled in a blanket.

"Professor," Dimitri breathes, turning bright red. He brings the pillow down slowly, from where he was likely about to murder Sylvain with it. The motion makes him flush heavily, and he awkwardly stands from where he was pinning Sylvain down to the floor. 

Sylvain doesn't look as if he was in fact, about to be absolutely destroyed by a pillow. He looks oddly pleased, like one of those cats that swarmed Byleth when he was fishing, eager to steal one from his basket. "Why, hello professor," he says sweetly, "here to join us in our little game of truth or dare? Why, it was my turn, and I just asked our dear prince a great question that I would love to repeat for you-"

A pillow is whipped at Sylvain's head by Ingrid, who looks very irate. "Sylvain," she hisses, as a warning. 

Sylvain takes the pillow head on, laughing. He sits up from the floor. "I get it, I know, I have to let Dimitri sort it out, you've told me a million times."

"Sort what out?" Byleth asks, finally relaxing his grip on the weapon.

"Nothing," all the Blue Lions chorus.

In a very obvious attempt to evade Byleth's question, Dimitri ducks into the conversation with a smile. "What are you wearing, professor?" He asks, his voice a little strangled.

Byleth looks down at himself. The nightgown he's wearing is a simple one- white, goes past his knees, quite flowy. He preferred wearing loose clothes to bed, they were easy to move around in and felt much better after a day of wearing armor. The collar of his nightgown is frilled, so perhaps Dimitri was commenting on that. It didn't match what he usually wore, which were usually dark colours, and full armor, so that might explain their reaction. "My nightgown," he replies simply.

He looks back up to see all of his students immediately glance away, then back, then away once more, when they realize that their professor is still watching. A few of them trail their eyes across his exposed throat and the poofy collar, pink. Byleth doesn't want to ask why.

Instead of drawing the moment on any further, Byleth huffs out a tiny breath. "What are you all doing in here? It's past curfew."

"We're a having a sleepover," Annette explains, looking cheery. Her smile glows with more force the longer Byleth doesn't respond. When the silence draws on too long, Annette gains a panicked sort of look. "Don't kick us out!"

"Tomorrow we march," Byleth says carefully, and tries not to watch Ashe's hands clench in the blankets. "It would be rise to rest early. In your own rooms."

"We will rest early," Mercedes replies, looking earnest. "I promise. Won't you please let us have the sleepover here? We'll go to bed right after."

"Is that why you're all playing truth or dare, then?" Byleth inquires, watching the way they all avoid his gaze. He sighs. "Why Dedue's room, of all places? Why not one of the ones upstairs?"

Felix snorts. "Well, that's because it's-"

With impressive speed, Dimitri lunges across the room to cover Felix's mouth with his pillow. If they had loaded the pillow with a brick, Dimitri could possibly use it on the battlefield as a deadly weapon. Byleth listens to the two boys struggle a moment longer before he clears his throat. They separate instantly.

"If I hear any more noise..." Byleth trails off, leveling all of them with expectant looks. Ashe and Annette nod their head frantically. He sighs. He wouldn't want Ashe to be alone tonight, either. "Sleep early," Byleth reminds them, before shutting the door. He doesn't have the mental capacity to handle the Blue Lions and their antics right now. Besides, a little sleepover never hurt anyone.

With a concealed yawn, Byleth slinks back to his room, closing the door behind him.

"Sorry for waking you," Sothis says, not sounding very worried at all.

Byleth becomes one with his bed once more before answering. "'S alright, 's normal," Byleth murmurs, fully intent on falling back asleep. He closes his eyes and tries to burrow into his pillow. "'S kinda weird how they're all... friends already."

"Is that a bad thing?"

Byleth has to fight his sleepiness off just to answer. "No. 'S, it's just because it took them all a lil longer to come together. It used to be the childhood friends hanging out together and such in the first months. I think they only all really started to bond wit' each other after Miklan."

He yawns, as Sothis puts a hand to her chin. He can feel her digging around in his memories- of Felix and Ingrid barely tolerating Dedue, who in turn reciprocated such wariness. Memories of Ashe being unable to even speak in Dimitri's presence, memories of Annette glaring at Sylvain, of Mercedes struggling to speak with anyone that was not Annette. 

Sothis floats to sit on top of the covers, twisting a lock of green hair around one finger. "Byleth?"

"Mm."

"Do you," Sothis begins, before cutting herself off. "Were you dreaming before I woke you?"

He pries open his eyes to look up at Sothis. "Was I dreaming?" Byleth asks, tugging the blanket further up his body. "I don't remember."

She lets out a little puff of air. "Good."

"Why?"

Leaning forward, Sothis pokes him in the middle of his forehead. "No reason."

Before Byleth can let the sweet embrace of sleep take hold of him, Sothis pokes him again. "What?" Byleth demands, still a whisper. 

"If you were able to go back to that past timeline, would you?" Sothis asks, tone unsteady. 

That makes Byleth sit up in bed. "What brought this on?" He asks, careful to keep his voice quiet. 

Sothis shrugs in a way that means that she's definitely hiding something. "I am allowed to ask questions, am I not? Phooey!"

"And I'm not." Byleth adds, already knowing the answer.

"Correct," she responds, folding her arms across her chest. "Now. Answer the question. Would you?"

Byleth clenches the sheets with two shaking hands. "I can't say that I haven't thought about it," Byleth mumbles, noticing Sothis' face fall. "But I would rather stay here."

"Why?"

"I am dead in that world."

If Sothis was corporeal, Byleth knows that she would have tossed one of the pillows at his head. He bites back a small smile. "But the people that I love are here. My father, my students, you..."

A viciously satisfied smile climbs its way up Sothis' face before she can hide it from Byleth. It fades just as quickly. "Don't you love your students in the other timeline, too? I dare say that you love them more."

"I love them differently," Byleth responds. 

She raises a brow. "Elaborate."

"No," Byleth declares, voice still soft. He buries back under the sheets, ignoring Sothis slapping his arm. If he strains his ears, he can hear the Blue Lions still chatting in Dedue's room.

Letting up on her hits, she pauses to shake him. "Byleth. One more question before you go back to bed."

"Mmrph," Byleth grumbles into the pillow. Sothis takes the sound as incentive to continue.

"Do you love Dimitri?"

It's a simple question, but for some reason it makes Byleth's thoughts halt. "Which one?" He murmurs, rolling away from the pillow.

"You know which one," Sothis snaps back, as soon as the words leave his tongue. "You would do well to not play the fool."

Byleth can feel his drowsiness catching up with him, once a silent pull, now an urgent plea. "Don't you already know the answer?" Byleth replies, letting himself doze off. Sothis' indignant calls trail off into nothing.

He doesn't believe that he dreams that night, but he swears that he could see Dima in every pitch black drop of darkness.

.

Since his father had already returned to the monastery, and since Rhea had no plans to send him out on a mission for another week, Jeralt entrusted the entirety of his mercenaries to Byleth.

"No," Byleth says, once he sees them all lined up at the gates, looking chipper and far too awake for dawn. "No," he repeats, once he sees that the Blue Lions are already speaking with the mercenaries, looking surprisingly bright. He was expecting that, at the very least, the students would look half dead from their sleepover. However, they looked just as starry eyed as usual, save for Ashe, who had taken to sticking to Dedue's side.

There was a bone-deep weariness about Ashe, one that Byleth had seen daily on his face- five years in the future. He ached to relieve him of such stress.

"They're excited to follow your lead," his father says, tone not gruff enough to hide his teasing. "They want to see how you do without me around."

"Half of them already have," Byleth replies, sullen. He's too tired for this. 

Jeralt pats him on the head. "Let them have their moment, kid. I wish I could come with you, but Rhea might..."

Byleth understands. "Stay safe."

In response, his father snorts. "I should be telling you this. You're the one about to mess with time."

"I know. I'll be careful."

"Professor," a voice calls. Both men turn to see Rhea standing there, flanked by Seteth, as well as a dozen knights of Seiros. 

Byleth ducks his head a little. "Rhea." Sothis laughs as she watches Seteth twitch at her side, itching to correct Byleth. 

He can feel his father tense up beside him. "It's a little early, don't you think?" Jeralt accuses, tone pointed.

"Come now," Rhea replies, smooth and soft. "I wanted to see the professor off, as well as gift him a few knights. I have no doubt in his prowess, but safety is our priority."

"No," Sothis groans. "No, we can't let them come! We got lucky with Catherine, but these knights are an unknown variable!"

_I can't see any way around it._ Byleth thinks back furiously, a little ticked himself. _Catherine brought knights last time, as well._

"Is there a problem?" Seteth asks, and Byleth nearly flinches, until he realizes that the question is directed at his father. 

"Do you doubt my son?" Jeralt inquires. His posture is relaxed, but there is an almost tangible string of tension in his words, begging to snap. His father already knows what's at stake.

Seteth seems surprised at the apprehension. "This is not about doubting. Wouldn't it be safer to bring more knights, not only for your son, but for the students? We have no idea how grand the threat may be."

"The threat," Sothis snarls, sharp and mocking, "is a handful of common folk that must scream to be heard by you! That die in order to reach your ears!"

Jeralt backs down at Seteth's words. Any more of a push, and they really might be suspicious. "Fine."

"Any objections?" Rhea asks, but now she's giving Byleth another one of her pointed stares.

"Switch tactics," Sothis hisses. "I would suggest a Divine Pulse to maybe leave earlier, but we have no clue as to what number we'll need later on."

So Byleth makes his eyes slightly wider, his posture more relaxed, his frame smaller. A false submission. He feels like a fool, taking a page out of Hilda's books. It didn't suit him at all. "I couldn't possibly take this many knights with me," Byleth says, glancing down at the floor, then back up at Rhea. "I am aware that you are worried for my safety, but with such a large group, rations would run out easier, we would risk the element of surprise, and more people may die."

Rhea's eyes are piercing. Byleth forces himself to meet them. "I am also more accustomed to leading a smaller group," Byleth insists, keeping his voice even. He ignores the fact that he would lead full-scale armies into war. "Even if we are meant to take down a revolt, more men would mean more chance for the civilians in the area to be harmed."

Now Byleth was just making things up. He had no idea what he was saying. There was a reason he hated speaking, why he left all the speeches to Dima.

"I understand," Rhea concedes, and it seems that Sothis is about to throw a party in Byleth's head, until the Archbishop continues. "Then bring half of these knights only."

Sothis groans aloud, and Byleth wishes he could join her.

.

The march to Lonato's territory is agonizing.

The six knights that Rhea insisted on them bringing were all green, excited at the idea of their mission. Byleth could see a bit of his younger self in them- excited to be useful for someone, somehow, not thinking about the fact that lives were about to be lain across their blades. Perhaps he could use that to his advantage. 

Jeralt's mercenaries were all singing, _again,_ some sort of love song that Byleth's only heard in taverns when everyone was drunk enough to forget that they were, in reality, tone deaf and wouldn't know what a note was if it stabbed them. As per usual, they try to drag Byleth into singing with them, so Byleth hovers at the back of the group, evading their earnest eyes and beckoning hands.

Meanwhile, the Blue Lions are eerily upbeat. Mercedes is busy running around her fellow students and knights, offering cookies to everyone. Annette and Ingrid are cheerily munching on theirs, while Felix is going out of his way to avoid the sweets that Sylvain is trying to feed him. Byleth doesn't know what Dimitri's doing, but he's shooting looks at Byleth, as Dedue gives him occasional looks that seem to be encouraging.

And at the very back, walking at Byleth's side, Ashe is wringing his hands.

Byleth frowns at the sight. "You may return to the monastery if you so desire," Byleth murmurs, careful to not be overheard. The Blue Lions were obviously putting on a show, trying to get Ashe's attention, but Ashe is too preoccupied with his own thoughts. 

"No," Ashe begins, almost a whisper. Then his jaw tightens. "No, I must learn for myself why Lonato is doing this. I- I have to know why. Professor, I swear to you, he's a good man! I don't understand why he's doing such a thing!"

A 'good man.'

Byleth had no idea what made a man 'good.' Every single person had the capacity to hurt, whether or not their intentions were 'good.'

He only knew a few things about Lonato. First, his son was assassinated by the church. Second, he had adopted Ashe and his little siblings, despite Ashe breaking into his house, despite everything. Third, there were people that believed in him and loved him so much that they were willing to put their lives on the line for him.

Ashe spoke about him in such high regard, and Byleth held Ashe in such high regard that he respected Lonato as well.

When Felix had landed the finishing blow upon Lonato in his first life, Ashe could hardly look at him for a week, which was absolutely reasonable. Felix was antsy about it as well, and Byleth couldn't help but resent himself for commanding Felix to end him- he should have at least taken that burden from his hands.

There was also the matter of Catherine killing Christophe, Lonato's son.

Byleth happened upon their conversation on accident, and from then on, decided that they shouldn't battle together, ever. He had no idea whether or not Ashe had talked to Catherine about it further in his past life, or if Catherine felt any sort of guilt for it.

Either way, he was aware that the absence of Catherine would probably make or break Byleth's plans to spare Lonato.

"If you say he's a good man," Byleth began, looking into Ashe's eyes, "then I believe you."

"...Professor, I can't tell if you're being serious or not." Ashe replies, still picking at his hands. He's fidgeting with a blister on his palm. 

"Do I look like the sort to lie?" Byleth asks, ignoring every truth at hand.

"No!" Ashe exclaims. "No, of course not! It's just... Ever since Lonato's announcement, everyone's been demanding answers from me. Not a lot of people believe me when I insist that he's still a good man, and an excellent knight, deep down."

Byleth hums. "You don't seem like the type to lie either."

Ashe chuckles, and the sound is a little wobbly. He picks at his blisters, ripping at the skin. Immediately, Byleth waves a hand, and a heal spell washes over Ashe's hands, before Byleth takes one hand in his own, and squeezes it briefly before letting go.

In front of them, Dimitri, who was watching, trips over a rock, and stumbles to stay upright.

"No picking at your wounds," he scolds Ashe. 

For some reason, Ashe is staring down at the hand Byleth has squeezed. "Got it," Ashe replies, sounding a little squeaky. "W-why did you-?"

"I am not good with words," Byleth admits, as if it wasn't already obvious. "If I can support you in any other way, I'll do my best."

For the first time in days, Ashe regains a starry eyed look. "Thank you," Ashe breathes. "It means- it means a lot, professor."

There's a pause.

"Ashe-"

"Professor-"

"Ah, you first."

"No, no, please go ahead!"

When it's clear that Byleth isn't going to speak, Ashe takes a deep breath. "Have I told you about my siblings and I before?"

Byleth shakes his head, so Ashe tells Byleth about Lonato and his siblings- how Ashe broke into his house, how he and his siblings were adopted, how he grew up with Christophe. For the very first time in his lifetimes, Byleth learns the names of Ashe's siblings.

"Anise is my little sister," Ashe explains, "and Aster, my little brother, is only three years older than her."

He vows to commit these names to memory. They were names that belonged to people that Ashe loves, after all. 

"They look like me," Ashe continues, not noticing Byleth's nods to himself. "Freckled, gray hair... They're a bit shy, though, and take a bit to warm up to strangers."

Byleth nods along, not really having anything to say, but it seems to suit Ashe just fine. "They loved Christophe immediately, though."

"Did you love Christophe?" Byleth asks, sensing a part of the conversation that he could actually jump into. The boy nods eagerly. 

"He's the one that made me favor the bow, actually!" Ashe exclaims, sounding a little excited. "He said something like 'I'll worry about you constantly if you insist on taking to the front lines,' and 'I'll always protect you from the front, so you need to have my back.' The thought of being useful to him in any sort of way just made me happy, you know? My siblings and I, we were on our own for awhile, right? I had to look after them constantly, so I only realized that I wasn't looking after myself properly until Lonato and Christophe became a part of my life."

Ashe blinks, hard, in an effort to fight the stray tears threatening to escape. "Oh, goddess," Ashe gasps, "I'm sorry, professor, I-"

Byleth waits for him to collect himself. 

"Do- do you have any siblings, professor?" Ashe hurriedly asks, in an attempt to redirect the conversation. 

"No," Byleth replies immediately, then tilts his head to the side. "Actually..."

"A sibling like Christophe was to me?" Ashe prods, looking quite interested in the answer. Even some of the Blue Lions have given up all pretense of hiding the fact that they were listening in.

Byleth, of course, was very aware that the mercenaries were right there, and were around for practically his entire life. So instead, he shakes his head. "It's nothing."

"Are we not family?!" One of the mercenaries call out, interrupting their song. "Byleth, you wound us!"

He gives them all a blank stare. "Do I have to say it to reaffirm it?" 

The mercenaries blink, then storm up to Byleth to ruffle his hair. Maybe Byleth should have taken the knights of Seiros exclusively, and left his father's mercenaries behind.

.

Because Byleth's lived this life before, he knows that they'll be ambushed in the fog on their trek to Castle Gaspard, in Magdred Way. So he stops them before the fog can get any thicker, and before they enter the pass.

"We should take into account this fog," Byleth begins, nodding at everyone. "So let's wait a moment."

This, of course, is incentive for the mercenaries to throw themselves at each other, and at Byleth. The knights are pulled into the commotion with the mercenaries as well, and start hugging and slapping each other on the back. One of his father's mercenaries slaps one of the knights on the ass, and Byleth immediately looks away.

Dimitri strolls up to Byleth, smiling wide. The dimples appear on his face once more. He looks uncharacteristically nervous, wringing his hands. He's playing with the ring that Byleth gifted him.

"Hello, professor. Don't die out there, alright?" He's sounding more like he's announcing these words, rather than saying them.

He pats the prince on the shoulder. "You as well." Byleth watches as Dimitri's smile curls, wobbles, and grows bigger, somehow all at once. He's not sure if Dima would have ever made an expression like this, in his past life.

One of the knights run up to Byleth, panting. "Professor! We're surrounded!"

Byleth sighs. It seems the battle had already begun. "With me, everyone. Ingrid, Sylvain, you're on torch duty. Everyone, no killing."

The knights gape. "But, but Lady Rhea said that-"

"I said no killing," Byleth repeats, tone even. "We'll try to reach a compromise first."

Ashe shoots Byleth a grateful look. "Thank you, professor."

He shakes his head. "Don't thank me just yet."

.

Because everything in Byleth's life falls apart, the entire battle goes to hell immediately.

It starts relatively simple, everyone huddling close together, not willing to part in the thick fog. The torches, which Byleth had remembered to bring, only cast their light so far.

They step into the fog and one of the militia charges at them, snarling. "Lord Lonato doesn't deserve such sadness and anger... Now it's your turn to suffer!"

When Ashe winces, Ingrid and Dedue nudge closer to him.

Byleth, who was at the front, dodges the blow easily, stepping out of the way. He's about to knock the soldier out with the back of his blade, but one of the knights immediately guts the man on his spear. In horror, Ashe watches the man slump, a wet gurgle falling from his lips.

"Lord Lonato," the man gasps, blood spilling from his teeth. "I failed... you."

The knight pulls the lance from his chest with a horrifying loud squelch.

"What are you _doing!?_" Dimitri snaps, before Byleth can say anything. "What part of not killing anyone do you fail to understand?!"

"This is our mission, your Highness," the knight protests, sounding small. "We have to get rid of those who oppose the church!"

"They don't have to _die_ for it!" Dimitri snarls, as several more mercenaries descend upon them. One of them gasps when they see the dead man at their feet, and turns on the knight with a hostile look, eyes on their lance, drenched in blood.

"You," the militia hisses, drawing back their bow and letting the arrow fly. The arrow sings in the air as it reaches its target, piercing the knight's skull. He doesn't even have time to scream.

In horror, the rest of the knights descend on that archer, who only notches another arrow. Byleth realizes that he's crying, blinking fat tears away. "Come at me, you murdering, monstrous fucks!" The archer screams, letting another arrow fly, nicking a knight in the shoulder. His screams alert more of Lonato's troops to follow, judging by the sudden, heavy footfalls.

Ashe isn't even moving, kneeling at the man's feet, eyes wide with horror.

Sothis doesn't even have to say anything. Byleth allows the wave of nausea to wash over him, and is once more standing in front of Dimitri, playing with the ring. "Hello, professor. Don't die out there, alright?"

Byleth takes a deep breath. Twelve.

No matter how Byleth phrases his words the knights don't listen to him, at first. 

The next time around not only does a knight not listen to him, the events play out very much the same as last time. However, this time he also dodges the arrow meant for his skull, and it rips right through Dimitri's arm. When everyone's distracted by the prince getting injured, another one of the militia sneaks up behind them and slashes at Felix with an axe across the face. He goes down.

Byleth isn't there long enough to hear the end of everyone's angered screaming. He refuses to look at Felix's fallen body. Eleven.

Next time, it's a different knight that starts the chaos. While Byleth had switched up his words in the 'no killing' speech, that didn't stop another one of the knights from charging into the fog and leading about twenty of Lonato's troops to them. If this was five years in the future, he would have been alright leading the mercenaries and the Blue Lions into battle. Difficult, but doable. However, these are not his war hardened troops. Two of his father's mercenaries hit the ground. Ten. He feels like throwing up.

This time, Byleth punches both knights in the face, and makes sure that it's the fist that he wears the ring on. Sothis is sticking her tongue out at them. "No killing," he hisses, ignoring the shocked faces of his students. As long as no one died, they could look at him any way they wanted. Besides, although Sothis wanted to punch the knights as well, there was a part of Byleth that ached to do the same.

If this was war, these sort of soldiers could have compromised the entire battle, costing hundreds of lives. Byleth couldn't stand these sorts of people, the sort that broke formation and were unable to listen to simple orders. He already took into account his own students' tendencies and habits, as well as the ones his father's mercenaries possessed, but he was unused to these knights.

When the first soldiers arrive, the knights hang back. The two that were punched in the face glare at Byleth, but his father's mercenaries see this and stand in between them. They start up a fairly good rhythm- Ashe, Annette and Mercedes would wear down the troops lightly with arrows and magic, and the rest of them would knock them out. Ingrid and Sylvain would take to the front, being the torch bearers and all, and reveal the hidden enemy in the fog. Despite the fact that Byleth had to punch the soldiers in order to get them to stop causing trouble, it seemed to be going well so far.

Ashe's relieved face was worth all this trouble, however. The Blue Lions, who were also likely expecting to kill today, seemed pleased as well. Even though Byleth's head was spinning with endless stars, as long as his students were fine-

"The fog has cleared. There's nothing left to hide you or the filthy Central Church from the judgement of the goddess!" A voice booms.

Byleth hadn't realized how far they had run, and how many enemies they had knocked out, until they see Lonato. He looks at his feet, and sees a dark mage, unconscious at the floor. Likely the one causing the fog.

"Lonato?" Ashe calls, somewhere behind Byleth. He steps up beside Byleth, to join him at the front lines. "Why are you doing this, Lonato?"

"Stand down, Ashe. I must destroy these evil-doers by any means necessary!"

"Please surrender, Lonato! Whatever your reasons for doing this, we can still talk it out!"

Lonato scoffs, not looking at Ashe. "Rhea is an infidel who has deceived the people and desecrated the goddess! We have virtue and the goddess herself on our side!"

Ashe turns to Byleth, seems to look for something in his gaze, and then nods. "Why don't we talk it out, Lonato? I am sure that we can come to an agreement-"

And then Ashe stops.

An arrow has pierced his throat. 

Paralyzed with shock, Byleth watches as Ashe hits the floor. He retraces the trajectory to one of Lonato's men, who's already been grabbed by the collar by Lonato.

"What are you _doing?!_" Lonato bellows, eyes wide. "What are you doing?!" 

"Forgive me, Lord Lonato, I didn't mean for it to actually hit your son-!"

Mercedes is already pushing past the mercenaries to run to the front lines, waving wave after wave of a healing spell over Ashe. Her hand is trembling over the arrow, terrified of pulling the weapon out. 

Ashe's eyes are closed.

"Lord Lonato!" One of the knights spits, "you would even kill your own son?! You heretic, goddessless beast! Chaaarge!" 

The six knights storm on ahead, weapons raised. Byleth doesn't even stay to watch what happens next. Nine.

This time, Byleth wakes up in his bed, kicks off the sheets, and runs to Dedue's room, waking all of the Blue Lions up. They're all cuddled up in blankets on the bed, or on the floor near the bed. They startle when Byleth shakes them awake, but they don't ask questions as to why they're being woken up so early. 

"Get ready, and get my father's mercenaries from the barracks," Byleth says, before he stomps back to his own quarters, slipping on his armor and grabbing his sword. He heads to his father's quarters, feeling the nausea in his head like a tangible sort of pressure, making him see stars.

"Father," Byleth says. "Do you have any advice for circumstances out of one's control?"

Jeralt sits up on the couch, where he seemed to be uncomfortably dozing prior to Byleth coming in. He rubs the back of his head. "How many times have you done today?" He asks, because he's a wonderful father and Byleth loves him.

Byleth tells him what's happened, and Jeralt sighs, standing from the couch. "Okay. Here's what we're gonna do, okay? We're going to leave right now, and I'm coming with you."

Before Byleth can say anything, Jeralt pulls on his armor and walks out the door. With a sigh, Byleth follows his father out the door.

They meet the Blue Lions at the gates, alongside the mercenaries, who make a face when they see Jeralt walking with Byleth. The Blue Lions just look very tired. Annette's leaning on Dedue's back, and Felix is only just putting his hair into a bun. More of the strands stick out compared to usual.

"Boo," one of them complains. "We wanted to be led by Byleth!"

"And you will," Jeralt groans, waving over a guard to bring his horse over. "I'm just coming along for the ride. As a 'knight of Seiros.'"

His tone is absolutely dripping disdain.

"Let's ride," Byleth says, unable to hide the fact that he's incredibly tired. He sounds like death. He probably looks like it too, judging by the way that everyone's staring at him.

He doesn't want to risk being caught by Rhea again.

.

Like the first time around, the trek is completely normal. The mercenaries are singing, Jeralt's pretending that he's not walking to the beat of their song, and the Blue Lions are doing their usual antics, while sending nervous looks at Ashe, who is once more pouring his heart out to Byleth.

This time, after Ashe finishes talking about his siblings, Byleth looks at him. "May I hold your hand, Ashe?"

Visions of Ashe dying plague his mind.

It's not the first time Byleth has seen him die in battle. In his past life, he's seen everyone perish at least once, but he never wanted to see it ever again.

Ashe's horse getting attacked by enemy troops, Ashe slipping off and breaking something, unable to move. Ashe choking on his own blood. Ashe sobbing, as Annette desperately tries to mend the hole in his chest, crying alongside him.

"Y-you may!" Ashe says, holding his hand out, as if he was distributing food in the dining hall. "What brought this on?"

"I think it's comforting," Byleth replies. "I enjoy holding hands with people. You have soft hands."

Ashe makes some incoherent noise for some reason.

"Well now!" Sylvain declares, joining them at the back of their group. "Are we all holding hands, now?" In a dramatic flourish, he grabs Byleth's other hand and winks at him.

Byleth stares.

Sylvain squeezes his hand, and sends a leer Dimitri's way, who blushes furiously. 

Byleth really doesn't want to know. Luckily for him, the feeling of their hands in his keep him upright.

.

They do their pre-battle ritual, Dimitri tells him not to die, and then Lonato's men descend upon them once more. 

Byleth is tired. 

So, so tired. 

His head pounds and pulses with the strain of several Divine Pulses, but he doesn't know what's wrong with him. In his past life, he would use way more than this in under thirty minutes during a terrible battle and feel absolutely fine-

On the battlefield, the Blue Lions and the mercenaries are working in sync to break down the enemy's defenses and then knock them out, which works just fine for Byleth, but he doesn't know why Dima hasn't appeared yet to scream at them for their false pride and worthless pity. Dima would have already slaughtered them all by now, but where is Dima?

"Byleth?" Someone asks, voice dreamlike, fuzzy. It looks like Mercedes, but Mercedes hasn't had long hair in five years. "Is something wrong?"

"I think I used too many Divine Pulses," Byleth says, mouth dripping tar. "But I've done this before, I don't know why, I must be Dima's sword and shield-"

So he doesn't know why he feels like he's about to collapse. He can do this. He's done this before. One sword has no business being so heavy in both hands.

"Byleth!" His father screams, as Byleth slips in a particularly wet patch of mud. He doesn't know why his father is screaming, Jeralt's been dead for five years. He can't see him right now. Byleth has no business dying yet, Dima is waiting for him. 

Pain blossoms in his chest, and Byleth's suddenly face to face with Sothis in the Holy Tomb- which makes no sense because Sothis has been gone for five years.

Byleth smiles weakly up at her. "I've missed you, Sothis."

Sothis lifts a hand and slaps Byleth across the face.

"Ow," Byleth says, lifting a hand to his cheek. "Sothis, why?"

"What's the last thing that you remember?" Sothis demands, hands on her hips. Her lower lip is wobbling. "And eight, by the way. You've got eight Divine Pulses."

"I saw Jeralt," Byleth replies obediently, because he doesn't like to upset Sothis. "So that must mean that I am dead, right?"

Sothis' hands curl into fists. "You went back too far," she says, and her tone is awkward, on the verge of collapsing and breaking in her throat. "Okay. Okay! I can deal with this. We had no idea that it would affect your mental state. Next time- _Next time-_"

And Byleth watches Sothis burst into tears right in front of him. Byleth's eyes widen. 

"Sothis, what's wrong?!" 

For some reason this only seems to make her terribly angry. "What's wrong? _What's wrong?!_ I should be asking you that. Why are you the only one suffering? Why can't you just let these people die?!"

"I- I don't understand-"

"Every time," Sothis continues, as if she hasn't heard him. "Every single time, you are forced to witness their deaths. Of course that would have an effect on you! Why can't I help you? Why can't I relieve you of this burden? Why is it that you must suffer under this knowledge with such compassion?!"

Byleth stares at her. "It's alright, Sothis."

"It's really not," she hisses, wiping at her tears. Byleth doesn't know what to do, and is aware that any attempts to comfort her would likely be brushed off, so he waits for Sothis to regain her composure. "Do you remember now?"

A moment passes before Byleth's eyes widen. "Lord Lonato. Yes. Send me back in, Sothis."

Sothis looks at him, really looks at him, and Byleth is struck dumb suddenly with the knowledge that Sothis really is a goddess, just from the way she's looking at him. He gives her a patient smile. "Thank you, Sothis."

He watches her bite down on her lower lip, obviously fighting with whether or not she should say something to him. But Sothis merely frowns.

"Thank me by not dying again." She's not looking at him anymore.

When Byleth blinks, he's on the battlefield.

.

"The fog has cleared. There's nothing left to hide you or the filthy Central Church from the judgement of the goddess!" Lonato announces, once the dark mage has been knocked unconscious. 

"Lonato?" Ashe calls, appearing beside Byleth. "Why are you doing this, Lonato?"

"Stand down, Ashe. I must destroy these evil-doers by any means necessary!"

Ashe's eyes widen, but his hands only tighten around his bow. "Please surrender, Lonato! Whatever your reasons for doing this, we can still talk it out!"

Lonato scoffs, not looking at Ashe. "Rhea is an infidel who has deceived the people and desecrated the goddess! We have virtue and the goddess herself on our side!"

"Then let's talk this out," Ashe pleads. "Please, I don't want you to be hurt!"

"Then stand down," Lonato chides, hand on his lance. "I do not wish to see you hurt either, Ashe!"

The battle has fallen silent around them. Byleth is hyper aware of the tension in the air- and how it could shatter at any moment. The idea of using another Divine Pulse makes his stomach churn. Sothis herself is sullen about it, in the back of his mind. 

Despite every truth about him, he opens his mouth.

"Catherine killed your son, did she not?"

Ashe does a double take. "Professor, what-?"

Lonato sneers, and several of Lonato's men tense, ready for an order. 

It doesn't come. At least, not yet. "How do _you_ know that?" Lonato demands. He sounds calm, far too calm for this situation, which makes Byleth tense up.

Before Byleth can say anything more, Jeralt strides up to him, dismounting his horse. "Because I told him," Jeralt lies easily. Byleth tries not to relax.

"And who are you supposed to be?" 

"I am Jeralt the Blade Breaker," he announces, and gasps of recognition rise up from Lonato's men. "Former captain of the knights of Seiros."

"I have no quarrel with you," Lonato says simply. "You did not ask for my son's head, and you are no longer a supporter of the Church, correct? But if you continue to stand in my way, I'll have to strike you down."

The Blue Lions tense up behind him.

Jeralt shrugs, but Byleth can see the line of tension in his back. "I'm not too keen on fighting you either," Jeralt replies, "but you've involved innocent townspeople. That was a mistake."

Byleth is so, so sure that the tension is about to shatter. His students and the mercenaries are shooting Byleth looks, and Lonato's own men are twitching for an order-

Then Ashe opens his mouth again. "Father," he pleads, and everyone stops to stare at him. "Father, please, talk to me! There are no knights here. And I am your son! Please, please don't shut me out!"

"Go home, Ashe," Lonato snarls. "This is no place for games."

"Communication is important," Byleth adds, and almost jumps when everyone turns to stare at him. "It is," Byleth insists.

"On the march here," Byleth begins, "Ashe told me how much he loves and respects you. At first, my mission was to get rid of you. But I wanted to see if we could talk this out beforehand."

Lonato actually laughs. "Words cannot end a war," he admonishes. He can feel Sothis silently nodding at the back of his head.

Byleth shakes his head. "But they can prevent it. I have no intention of sullying my blade with your blood. I have no intention of killing your men," Byleth says, gesturing at the unconscious troops around them. "I have no intention of killing you, either."

"My son is dead," Lonato hisses. "More men- more good men, just like him, will continue to die at Rhea's hands should this continue!"

"I am not saying that you're wrong," Byleth cuts in. "I am not saying that you shouldn't strive for revenge. That would be absolutely ridiculous of me."

"Then what are you saying?"

Byleth takes a deep breath. He doesn't know how to phrase this. "When you storm the church, were you planning on cutting down Ashe as well?"

Ashe whirls on his professor, eyes wide.

"That was not my intention-!"

"Then what was it?" Byleth asks, aware that he's balancing precariously on thin ice. "Were you hoping that Ashe would never learn of the rebellion? That he wouldn't rush into battle to see if the rumour were true, that he wouldn't be absolutely heartbroken to see you level a blade at him for no reason? And what of those innocent? Would you turn your blade on the orphans that live at the monastery?"

Lonato's hand tightens around his lance, and Jeralt angles himself so he's covering more of Byleth's form. "Enough," his father whispers. "Enough, Byleth. You've already done so much."

Silence.

One of Lonato's men glances at their lord. "Lord Lonato?"

He doesn't answer, in favor of staring at Ashe for a few moments, watching tears fall down his son's face. His own visage hardens.

For some reason, Lonato fixes his gaze on Byleth, lance raised in his direction. "You."

The Blue Lions and his father's mercenaries rush to Byleth's side, including Ashe, who's tears are streaming down his face. Jeralt's hands flex around his own weapon. 

Lonato watches this all in stride. "What is your name?"

"Byleth," he responds. For some reason, this makes Lonato grin.

"Ah. The Ashen Demon. I've heard so much about you. What an unfitting nickname."

"What now, Lonato?" Dimitri calls, voice hard. "Will you surrender?"

Lonato does not even turn to look at him. "Your Highness, do take heart to not be deceived by Lady Rhea. Something's not right about her."

Dimitri blinks. Before he can say anything more, Lonato directs his attention back onto Byleth. "You said that you have no intention of killing me?"

Byleth nods, the movement slow.

"I will not forget this," Lonato announces. "Men. Pick up those unconscious fools. We're leaving."

All of Lonato's men shoot each other incredulous looks, but rush to comply when Lonato barks at them again. Even the Blue Lions look absolutely shocked.

In the back of Byleth's mind, Sothis' jaw has crashed to the floor.

"Ashe," Lonato proclaims, attention shifting to his son. "I will not yield on my thoughts of Rhea or Catherine."

Ashe tilts his jaw up, trying to look stronger. "I am aware."

"You should think about it, too. What it means to be a knight. And who to place your faith in."

"I have already placed my faith in someone worthy of it," Ashe replies, glancing at Byleth out of the corner of his eye. Lonato nods.

"Look after your siblings for me," Lonato says, "we'll meet again. Oh, and be wary on the day of the Goddess' Rite of Rebirth." 

With a jerk of his chin, he and his men disappear into another man-made fog.

A pause.

"What the fuck just happened?" One of the mercenaries announce, incredulous sounding. That's apparently the cue for everyone's tension to drain from their shoulders. Mercedes actually sighs.

Byleth almost sinks to the ground in relief. 

"You can't keep doing this," Sothis scolds, sounding quite pleased despite her words. "First Kostas, next Lonato? This will come back to haunt us, and you know it."

_I can try._

Sothis shakes her head. "One of these days we need to experiment with how many Divine Pulses you can handle," she chides. "Because that earlier reaction was not at all normal."

He can feel her worry and fear like a wound in his chest. _Do not worry, Sothis._

"That's all I seem to do, these days." She exhales, the sound bright. "What will you do when we eventually run into an enemy you cannot convince with words?"

She doesn't have to say a name for Byleth to understand.

_I will be ready._

Sothis snorts, but doesn't correct him.

Jeralt clears his throat, breaking up everyone's mini celebration. "I shouldn't have to say this, but we can't tell anyone that we let Lonato go."

Of course, his mercenaries nod immediately, but more surprisingly, his students agree just as quick. Felix is sighing.

"I wanted more of a challenge," Felix groans, which makes Ingrid groan in turn.

"Why don't we spar when we get back?" Byleth suggests, watching Felix's face light up slightly. 

"No," Jeralt scolds. "You are going to rest. You've worked far too hard today."

Felix opens his mouth to protest, but closes it just as fast. "Fine then. We spar at dawn tomorrow."

_He let that go surprisingly fast._

"Maybe it's because you look like death," Sothis agrees, while rolling her eyes. 

Byleth sighs in agreement. "Ashe, why don't you go check out the neighbouring village? Make sure everyone's okay."

Ashe blinks away a few more tears. "My siblings! That's right!" He turns away, then turns back just as quick, doing a little bow to Byleth. "Thank you, professor. Thank you, thank you, thank you so much! I won't forget this!"

.

They return to the academy with the usual fanfare. The gatekeeper practically shines when he sees them all return, the students stop and stare- but Rhea and Seteth are waiting for them in the middle of the entrance hall.

"Professor," she says simply. "I am glad to see that you have returned safely. The goddess is gracious with her divine protection. But it was not only her divine protection that shielded you, was it? You are just as skilled as I had hoped."

Ashe tenses visibly, and Dedue and Ingrid move to stand in front of him.

"Forgive me, Rhea," Byleth starts, looking her dead in the eyes. "I wanted to leave as soon as possible, so please forgive me for not greeting you properly."

"Truly a pity," Rhea replies, sounding as if she was perhaps really upset. "I was going to send some knights with you, to further ensure your safety."

Jeralt raises his hand from where he was standing in the back of the group. "No need," Jeralt tacks on quickly, "I came along. Wanted to see my son in action and all."

Rhea's mouth curves into a little smile. "Commendable as ever, Jeralt. You did of course quell Lonato's rebellion?"

"Of course," Jeralt replies, before Byleth can say anything. Rhea nods. 

"I thank you all," Rhea nods. "I understand that many of you must be hesitant about fighting militia. However, we must punish any sinner who may inflict harm upon believers, even if those sinners are civilians."

Byleth can practically feel everyone tense up beside him. Dimitri and Sylvain in particular open their mouths- and then close them immediately. Byleth takes the opportunity to speak.

"I believe that people are plotting to target the Archbishop on the day of the Goddess' Rite of Rebirth," Byleth announces, watching Seteth tense.

"Those heretics!" Seteth declares. "The Rite of Rebirth is of paramount importance. It is when the Church of Seiros and its believers unite to pray for the return of the goddess. The Archbishop and I will be confined to the goddess tower once the ritual begins."

"Is that true?" Rhea asks. Rather than accusing, or demanding, she's simply prodding, as if she has no real opinion on the matter. "Then I must assign you and your students to help with security on that day. While there is no need to fear for my safety, we cannot turn a blind eye to those who would blaspheme so heinously."

Byleth nods. "Please excuse us," he says, too tired to continue to speak. "We must clean ourselves up."

Rhea nods, and with a swish of her robes, strolls away with Seteth. As soon as she's out of sight, Ashe sinks to the floor.

"Ashe!" Annette exclaims, as Felix hurries to hold him upright.

"I just don't know what to believe anymore," Ashe gasps, and Byleth's chest aches, and aches.

.

Byleth wakes up in a cold sweat.

He looks around his room. Sothis is curled up onto the bed next to him, fast asleep. If he listens closely, no odd sounds are coming from Dedue's room. All is well.

So why does he feel so nauseous? 

Slipping out of bed and almost collapsing on the floor, Byleth winces. He doesn't want to wake Sothis up. She's been upset with him recently.

Deciding to get some fresh air, Byleth quietly tip toes out of his room and sees Linhardt there, sitting on the crates piled haphazardly outside of his room. He waves a lazy hand at him once he sees Byleth.

"Hello, professor," Linhardt says, sliding off of the crates to stand at his side. "Will you stop avoiding me now? I wish to go see that area once more with you. I have a few more hypotheses- Professor?"

Byleth crumples to the floor, the world an indigo, spinning mess, and vomits into his hand.

"Professor? Oh dear," Linhardt says, with his usual deadpan. Byleth swears that he can hear a bit of fear in his words, however. "Was there a wound on the battlefield that you received today, and didn't heal? Caspar does that sometimes too. Both of you are so worrisome."

Linhardt waves a hand, and a heal spell washes over Byleth, but it only makes him more dizzy. On his knees, Byleth vomits out onto the floor. 

In the pale moonlight, Byleth only just realizes that it wasn't bile, but _blood._ Linhardt seems to notice it at the same time, for he pales as well.

"Professor," Linhardt breathes. "We must go to Manuela, right now." He reaches around Byleth's shoulders and tries to get him to stand.

"No-" Byleth wheezes, trying to gather all his strength to stand. "No, no healers."

"So stubborn. No. We're going right now."

"No," Byleth gasps, clinging to Linhardt's front. "No, no, just set me on my bed."

Linhardt's nose wrinkles. "That would not be wise, professor. I insist that I take you to a healer. I will worry all night long."

"Please," Byleth murmurs, unintentionally leaning all of his weight onto Linhardt's chest. "If this happens again you can knock me out and take me there. But no, not this time. Please."

He's aware that Linhardt is stronger in magic compared to strength, but it really does take awhile for Linhardt to drag him to Byleth's bed, even with Byleth's poor attempts to relieve some of the weight from him.

Linhardt gently places him onto the bed, which Byleth is grateful for. He might throw up again if Sothis agitated him, and luckily, she stays asleep. He doesn't bother to crawl under the blankets, instead relaxing onto the pillows.

Byleth blinks stars away from his vision, and suddenly Linhardt is five years older. 

"I like that bun in your hair," Byleth hears himself say, before darkness takes ahold of him. "It suits you..."

.

Thank Sothis for small mercies, his headache does not persist until the next morning. Byleth's still kind of upset that he still has to hold class the next day, though. 

Even Sothis seems tired, and she was asleep longer than Byleth was. But Byleth isn't jealous or anything.

When he walks into class, he can see his students try and feign awareness. Sylvain isn't even trying. He's half asleep at his desk. When Byleth brushes past Annette's desk, he can see herself pinch her hands in an attempt to keep herself awake.

To be honest, Byleth has every intention of giving them a day off. But as soon as he reaches the podium, someone bursts into the Blue Lions classroom, shocking Sylvain awake.

Linhardt is standing there in the doorframe, looking disheveled. There's bags under his eyes that could rival Marianne, and his hair isn't even tied back like it normally is- it falls over his shoulders in a style Byleth distinctly remembers from the future.

He opens his mouth to yawn, then fixes Byleth with a patient stare. "Can I... help you?" Byleth asks, a little confused.

"I have made up my mind," Linhardt declares, through another yawn. "I will be joining your class, if you'll allow me."

That announcement wakes up both Byleth and the Blue Lions.

"_What?!_"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow everyone! plot time! welcome to the squad, linny! 
> 
> gosh byleth you cant just let everyone go like that. hindsight is 20/20. some people may not repay you for saving them babyyyyy and my gosh you can't just say things about the future to linny like that! he's a smart boy. he won't forget your words.
> 
> i started maddening mode and despite the fact that i havent finished the gd route or started the church route i went with blue lions again because I TOTALLY DONT HAVE A BIAS FOR THEM OR ANYTHING LMAOOOO
> 
> thank you for reading! I WANTED TO ADD MORE ANGST IM DISAPPOINTED IN MYSELF SORRY ANGST SQUAD- please do consider the consequences of byleth trying to save so many people. some of them will not be positive. dont forget that lonato still hasn't given up on killing rhea! ♡
> 
> byleth/dimitri C+ rank  
byleth/dedue C+ rank  
byleth/felix C+ rank  
byleth/annette C+ rank  
byleth/ingrid C+ rank  
byleth/sylvain C+ rank  
byleth/mercedes C+ rank  
byleth/ashe B rank
> 
> byleth/linhardt C+ rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/claude ??? rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea C rank


	9. tempest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have something important to say! in chapter 7, i said that it was flayn's birthday BUT IM A DUMBASS AND HER BIRTHDAY ACTUALLY TAKES PLACE IN BLUE SEA MOON, THE MONTH WE'RE IN IN THE STORY RN IM SORRY ABOUT THAT AHHHHH
> 
> also there's more lovely art from more of you lovely people! oh my god i think i fucking. cried when i saw them there are no words to express how grateful i am to yall seriously thank you. all of you. also i have no fucking clue how links work on ao3 lol so please bear with me- thanks to the lovely aysrin and sleepyyoru! it means so fucking much im ♡♡♡ give these lovely people some love
> 
> https://aysrin.tumblr.com/post/187659923607/dima-moar-godspeed-ch-7-by-quags1re-read
> 
> https://sleepyyoru.tumblr.com/post/187779783201/hello-i-drew-out-a-comic-from-one-of-my-favorite
> 
> thank you so so much. seriously oh my gosh. like holy fuck yall. really. my heart is so full constantly
> 
> another s/o to healers, the one who helped me name this chapter you know who you are lol thank you so so much
> 
> EDIT: hello to the person copy pasting my fic onto quotev and wattpad and saying it's theirs! yes you, Yuna-Hikari-Haru/Memory-Artist-Luna! please cease these actions at once and take down my work, which you have not received permission to post. thank you! keep off my fic. failure to do so will have serious consequences.

For a moment all Byleth does is stare.

"I am joining your class," Linhardt repeats, closing the door firmly behind him. "Of course, only if you'll allow me."

Byleth and Sothis share a look. 

"Don't look at me," Sothis says, "it's your fault for bringing him to the Holy Tomb when I explicitly told you to use a Divine Pulse!"

He holds back a sigh. "Alright," Byleth concedes, although he was secretly pleased. He was fond of the boy, despite his eccentricities. "You may join the Blue Lions."

A whoop from the rest of the class rings out. "Welcome!" Annette cheers, waving both hands at Linhardt. "Oh, this is so exciting! I'm so happy that you're joining, Linhardt!"

Mercedes claps her hands together. "Linhardt, what sort of sweets do you like to eat?" Mercedes asks, voice pleasant. "Anything in particular?"

"Now now, ladies," Sylvain says, grin stretching across his face. His eyes are slightly narrowed. "Don't pressure him to speak! You'll scare him away! Now, why did you join us? I am dying to know."

Linhardt blinks slowly, then meets Byleth's eyes. For some reason, Byleth has a bad feeling-

"Last night, I met up with the professor and he collapsed into my arms-"

Byleth has never been so thankful for his blank face as all of his students turn to look at him.

"Linhardt!" Byleth exclaims, raising his voice for what seems like the first time in forever. The Blue Lions can't seem to decide who to gape at- their professor, who always seemed calm and collected, or Linhardt, who had disturbed the peace with a single sentence.

"_Byleth!_" Sothis hisses, yanking his ear. He tries not to wince as she rummages clumsily through his memories. "Why didn't you tell me about this?!"

"The professor what-?!" Dimitri exclaims, standing from his chair. A dangerous looking blush is running up the sides of his neck. "What are you saying, Linhardt?"

Linhardt regards Dimitri with a cool expression and an arched brow. "Why do you sound so scandalized? I am talking about the way the professor threw up blood last night."

"Oh," Dimitri sputters, looking a little embarrassed. "Well- My apologies!"

He then turns a hurt expression on Byleth. "Professor! You threw up blood?! We must take you to a healer!"

Byleth waves it off. "I am fine."

"Clearly not, if you were vomiting blood," Felix scoffs.

"It's alright," Byleth insists. "Linhardt, why don't you speak with your new classmates while I step outside for a moment."

"Don't think that we've forgotten about your injury!" Ashe calls out, tone a little too even.

Without responding, Byleth leaves the classroom and is immediately screeched at by Sothis.

"_You moronic, daft imbecile!_" Sothis shrieks, as soon as the door is closed. Byleth's very lucky that no one can hear her scold him. He doesn't know how he could teach a class if she just yelled at him the entire time. "You must tell me these things! What if you were dying! And why didn't you go see Manuela?!"

_I apologize._

"Apologies are worthless," Sothis hisses, her voice booming across the courtyard. "Next thing you know, you won't tell me that you were being stabbed! You irresponsible idiot!"

_I am sorry._

Sothis folds her arms across her chest, red faced. "And stop with your curt sentences! Don't use that tone with me!"

Byleth is about to think back 'what tone' but he likes being able to hear, so he decides against it.

"_I CAN HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS!_" 

_...I really am sorry, Sothis._

She finally calms a little, her fists clenching and unclenching. "I know."

_Please don't be upset._

Sothis jerks her chin up. "I am not upset. I am angry." She leans against the door of the classroom with a sigh. "Please don't keep things like this from me, okay? We- we're a team."

Byleth allows himself the tiniest smile and reaches out to pat Sothis on the head. She looks as if she's about to swat the hand away, but instead she allows the touch, frowning even more. _Of course we are._

"But why didn't you go to a healer?" Sothis demands, finally pushing the hand away. Without even opening his mouth, Byleth brings his hand to his chest. "Ah."

In one swift movement, Sothis brings her own hand up to Byleth's chest, over his own hand, over his heart. She closes her eyes.

"I'm sorry," Sothis murmurs.

_Why are you the one apologizing now?_

Sothis doesn't answer to his inquiry. She opens her eyes. "If I had a body," she began ominously, hand still over his heart, "I would kill those women twice over."

Byleth's face scrunches up in confusion. _What?_

"You better go back inside," Sothis says slowly. "They're waiting for you." 

She slides her hand off of his chest and then fists both hands in her dress. With an eerie smile, Sothis gestures at the door. 

Still a little perplexed, Byleth walks into the classroom-

-to see the Blue Lions pestering Linhardt with questions.

Sylvain's got an arm around Linhardt's shoulders, a giant grin on his face. "-last night, huh?"

"What were you guys doing?" Ashe asks, beaming wide. All of the students are giving Linhardt wide-eyed looks.

Even Dedue seems to be participating, although he isn't crowding around Linhardt like the rest of them. "You were quite quiet. I would have heard you if you were even the tiniest bit loud."

Dimitri's sitting at his desk, pretending that he wasn't interested in the ongoing interrogation. Byleth can see him twitch everytime anyone says anything.

"Was the professor wearing that cute nightgown-"

"So when he collapsed into your arms, how did you-"

"Is he as buff as we-"

Byleth clears his throat, and the room disperses. Sylvain hastily releases a pale Linhardt from his grasp. Linhardt graces Byleth with a tiny smile, then makes a show of dusting himself off.

"I apologize on behalf of them," Byleth says, after a beat. 

Linhardt shakes his head. "No no, I was expecting this. I knew that they all admire you. I suppose we all share the same tastes-"

With that sentence, Linhardt breaks into a fit of light coughs. Byleth really should send his entire class to Manuela, just in case.

.

"You thief," Manuela declares, at dinner. 

It was a peaceful sort of night. Byleth was sharing a meal with his father and Alois. His father had snuck in some sort of alcohol, while Alois had been taking every sort of opportunity to attempt to steal it away from the man, despite the fact that his father had not taken a sip of it yet.

The Black Eagles table is boring holes into the back of Byleth's head. Which was not pleasant.

Meanwhile, the Blue Lions table was rowdy, as always. Linhardt seemed to hesitate when walking into the dining hall, but Ingrid had tugged him over to the Blue Lions table with a huge smile. They all seemed to be getting along, which Byleth was grateful for.

Byleth looks up from his stew to look at her. She doesn't look too angry, so he decides to tuck back into his meal without a word. It looked as if she didn't even want an answer.

Manuela slides into the seat next to Byleth, across from Alois. "I don't blame the boy," Manuela sighs. "You are quite charming. But I've been teaching longer than you have! Am I so inadequate?! Comfort me, professor!"

He takes another spoonful of stew before responding. "You're a better teacher than I," he replies, and he's not lying.

Sothis takes the time to rummage through his memories and pluck them out, one by one. Byleth being terrible at lectures. Byleth not knowing what to say when his students do poorly on exams. Byleth blanking out during seminars. Lovely memories, really.

"You're just saying that," Manuela coos, swatting his arm playfully. Her smile becomes a little more real, so Byleth is satisfied. "But really, take care of Linhardt. He's a smart kid. Maybe you can convince him to actually take school seriously. Or convince him to come to class more often."

Byleth shrugs, because he's got a spoonful of food in his mouth.

"If I were a student," Manuela declares, "I would transfer to your class as well. I mean, look at you!"

Jeralt runs a hand down his face. "Please don't flirt with my kid in front of me," he groans, but Manuela sticks her tongue out at him.

.

Class with Linhardt is... interesting.

Byleth learns to check his room before heading to the classroom, because Linhardt might still be asleep, facedown in a book. He also learns that Linhardt would frequently fall asleep in class, and that Linhardt would tune out anything that didn't interest him.

He also learns that he responds well to praise.

When Byleth takes him to the front of the class to tutor him on his faith skills, and Linhardt responds correctly to all of his questions, Linhardt regards him with wide eyes. 

Byleth pats him on the head, and his eyes seem to shine. "I'm not used to such praise," Linhardt would say, with a little grin, even though Byleth had only patted him on the head and said 'good job.' He resolves to praise his students more often.

It's a challenge to make Linhardt train.

All of the Blue Lions take to sparring effortlessly, so it was quite different compared to what Byleth was used to working with.

"I hate fighting," Linhardt groans, and then almost yelps when Annette flings a wind spell at his head. 

"You must learn," Byleth insists. "Or would you rather fight me instead?"

"No thank you," Linhardt replies immediately. 

When Linhardt shows even less enthusiasm about basic training, like jogging and stretching, Byleth sighs. He knows that Linhardt was a powerful mage. He just wants to coax his potential out of him.

"I'm going to enter you into the upcoming magic tournament," Byleth announces one afternoon, and Linhardt groans. 

"I don't want to," he complains, leaning onto Ashe for support, despite the fact that he's barely lifted a finger during today's training. "You can't make me..."

Byleth frowns, because yes, he didn't want to force him to fight. But knowing what potential future was waiting for them, he refused to let up. 

"If you enter the tournament and win," Byleth begins, looking Linhardt directly in the eyes, "I'll take you back to that place."

Immediately, Linhardt perks up, but then instantly deflates. "Impossible..."

Shrugging, Byleth turns away. "Then I guess we're never going back there."

"This is bribery," Linhardt announces, but throws himself into training with a surprising amount of vigor.

Dimitri raises his hand slowly. "Professor?" The prince waits for Byleth to look over at him. "Excuse me, but where is this place that you are talking about?"

Byleth puts a finger to his lips. "Secret."

He looks put out, but doesn't push the issue. Unfortunately for Byleth, all of the Blue Lions have gained a sort of look in their eyes that Byleth knows to mean that they won't let the subject go so easily.

.

The magic tournament is the very next day, right after classes.

All of the houses are there, including some staff and a few of the the branch students, who belonged to a house but were not necessarily a part of the class. Even Jeralt and his mercenaries are there, and as soon as the mercenaries see Byleth, they wave eagerly at him.

With a cool expression, Linhardt gives the crowd a cursory once over. He then turns to Byleth and the rest of his class. "I can't do this," he states calmly.

"Yes you can!" Ingrid exclaims, flushed from the excitement. "I saw you training with Mercedes and Felix. I know that you can!"

Sylvain slaps him on the back, and Linhardt makes a choking sound. "You'll be fine," he insists. "The professor wouldn't send out someone he didn't think could win."

Dimitri nods along, looking pleased. He did love fighting, after all, so tournaments and the like really appealed to him. "I agree," he says, and then shoots Byleth a private smile that Byleth doesn't really understand. "The professor doesn't like to lose, after all."

"I'll be here to patch you up if you're hurt!" Mercedes declares, and Linhardt seems to pale even more, which is an impressive feat.

"Reassuring," Linhardt says, his normally detached tone wavering.

The tournament was set up so that there were two brackets- a mix of students and knights, where the brackets would face their respective opponents and then branch off depending on the winners.

"Linhardt von Hevring to the field," the referee calls out. "Linhardt von Hevring, to the field!"

As Ashe rubs the boy on the back sympathetically, Linhardt looks at Byleth. "If I die I will be cross with you," he declares, then steps onto the field.

Linhardt has to face five opponents to win the tournament, which isn't exactly an easy feat. However, he sweeps the first two opponents without much of a sweat, and everytime Linhardt lands a hit the Blue Lions and Jeralt's mercenaries burst into roars of encouragement. Even Dedue is clapping.

Occasionally, Linhardt will turn towards them as if looking for encouragement. Of course the Blue Lions comply.

"I believe in you!" Annette cheers, jumping up and down.

"Make them regret they were ever born!" Felix would add, cupping his hands around his mouth.

Sothis gives him a look. "He's got the spirit, I suppose."

The third match doesn't go as easily as the last few. It's a knight of Seiros, and they show no quarter as they hit Linhardt with fire spell after fire spell.

Even Byleth has taken to raising his voice. "Dodge!" Byleth calls out, as Linhardt narrowing avoids the incoming flame, sliding onto the floor to dodge. "Now!"

Complying, Linhardt unleashes a devastating cutting gale on the knight, and she goes down. 

"Three! Two! One! Knockout!" The referee calls, and the arena explodes with excitement. 

Linhardt turns to the referee with a small incline of his head. "I would like to use one of my heal opportunities," he calls, and Mercedes immediately darts onto the field to patch him up. She uses a quick heal spell, hugs him tight, and then rejoins the crowd.

The next opponent isn't as simple, either. It's _Dorothea._ As soon as the Blue Lions see her, they all groan as one. Linhardt turns to Byleth, looking unsure, then turns back to face her.

Dorothea opens her mouth and says something, but since she's too far away, Byleth can't hear her, nor read her lips. All he can see is Linhardt stiffen at the words.

"Dorothea is a strong magic user," Dimitri says, hand on his chin. "This will be a difficult match for Linhardt."

Sothis immediately covers her face in her hands. "I can't watch," Sothis declares, even as she peers through her fingers.

The referee swings his hand down, and the match begins. Linhardt immediately steps away, trying to create more distance between them, but Dorothea is already whisking thunder spells at Linhardt, trying to close the distance. 

"If Linhardt steps out of the ring, it's an automatic disqualification," Ingrid hisses, hands clenching into fists. "Don't back up too much-!"

Of course, Linhardt cannot hear her, so he keeps backing up closer and closer to the edge. Byleth is on the edge of his seat.

Dorothea is only moving closer and closer to Linhardt, and her thunder spells are so powerful that Byleth can practically feel the magic in the air, thick and heady, like syrup.

Part of her spell catches Linhardt's hair, and the Blue Lions all wince. Linhardt's hair falls into his face, and he seems to sigh.

"Hey, Dorothea!" Someone calls out, and Byleth turns to see that it's Caspar. "Don't actually hurt him!"

Dorothea doesn't even twitch, and Byleth already knows her plan- she said something at the beginning of the fight, something to rouse Linhardt's pacifist nature, and was planning on merely edging Linhardt out of the ring, betting that Linhardt wouldn't actively try and raise a hand to her.

Linhardt's backed all the way up to the edge, now. Annette has taken a hold of Byleth's sleeve, tight with tension. "Come on, Linhardt, fight back," she urges.

Dorothea's only a few feet away from Linhardt now, and close enough for Byleth to read her lips. "Back out of the ring, Linhardt," Dorothea says.

Linhardt stares at her. 

What none of them are expecting, however, is for Linhardt to dash past Dorothea, skidding to a stop at her back. With a snap of his wrist, he unleashes a weak wind spell, not strong enough to hurt, but strong enough to push someone over-

Dorothea is knocked off of her feet and is pushed out of the ring.

Sothis screams in jubilation, the first one in the training grounds to react.

"Linhardt von Hevring is the winner of the semifinals!" The referee declares, and the Blue Lions cheer and scream so loudly that Byleth fears that they'll lose their voice.

When Byleth looks across the ring to try and catch his father's eye, he meets Edelgard's instead. She tries to force him to hold the gaze, but Byleth immediately turns away.

There's two more matches until the finals, so Linhardt is allowed to return to the bench. "I hated every second of that," he declares, even as he's hugged by Mercedes, Annette, and Ashe. He sinks into the bench as if to become one with it.

"You did well," Byleth praises, and watches his mouth curl into a half smile. Byleth moves closer to him, sliding across the bench, and reaches out for his hair. "May I?"

When Linhardt nods in approval, Byleth makes quick work of tying his hair back into a half-do bun. Linhardt hums in thanks.

"So you weren't lying when you said that you liked buns," Linhardt states, voice still bland.

"When did you say that, professor?" Ashe asks.

"When-"

Byleth slaps a hand over Linhardt's mouth. "I just know how to put hair into buns and ponytails, is all."

This wasn't a lie. Sometimes, Felix would be much too lazy to tie his hair up in the mornings, and so Byleth learned how to tie his hair up into a messy bun for him, so his hair wouldn't get caught in everything he walked past. He also learned it when the girls would invite him to spend time with them- and learn things like intricate buns or braids.

Before the final battle, Dima had tied his hair up into a half-do, to keep his hair out of his eye. Byleth remembers his eyes being drawn to his face that day, his eye, his golden halo of neat hair-

He looks up from the bun to see Dimitri touch his own hair, as if self-conscious. For some reason, Byleth feels as if he must explain himself. "I used to do F- the hair of the mercenaries."

"But do you like the style of hair that's tied back?" Sylvain asks, a slow smirk spreading across his face. Ingrid steps on his toes. "Ow!"

"Linhardt von Hevring to the field for the finals!"

The Blue Lions look to the field to see Linhardt's opponent. 

When Byleth sees Lysithea standing in the middle of the training grounds, he almost groans aloud. Sothis certainly does.

Lysithea was a menace in battle, Byleth knew it firsthand. He was her professor for a long time, after all.

Turning to Linhardt, he's almost surprised when he sees a look of calm on the boy's face. Linhardt stands from the bench without a word, and walks to the center of the arena.

The referee goes over the rules once again. Things like 'no fatal injuries' and 'no matter the circumstances, if you leave the center, you lose.' Byleth can't really hear it over the din of the crowd, however.

The referee swings his hand down.

Immediately, Lysithea lifts her hands and Byleth winces, because he knows from her stance that it's Swarm Z, and it's going to hurt, but Linhardt lifts one hand-

-and Lysithea disappears and reappears outside of the designated area.

"He warped her," Ingrid breathes, and then, alongside a chorus of others, "he warped her!"

"He can warp people?" Felix demands, looking both scandalized and impressed at the same time. "I want to spar with him!"

Sothis is staring. "Well, would you look at that. That requires an impressive knowledge of magic to learn. When did he..."

The referee takes a moment to collect themselves. "Well, she left the area... T-the winner is Linhardt von Hevring!" He announces, and a resounding, yet confused cheer rises up from the audience- the Blue Lions especially. In fact, all of them save Byleth have rushed to the center of the training grounds to congratulate him. A few others, Lysithea especially, are grumbling about how the outcome was unfair, but don't speak up.

Linhardt turns to look at Byleth. 

'Tonight,' he mouths, and Byleth wants to disappear.

.

When Byleth opens his door later that night, intent on picking up Linhardt from his room to take him back to the Holy Tomb, Dimitri and Dedue are standing outside of his room.

"What a coincidence, professor!" Dimitri greets, pretending like he wasn't just casually standing outside of the door. Dedue nods at him. "Lovely night, is it not?"

Sothis slaps a hand over her face. "Oh no. Now everyone in the world is aware that you and Linhardt have been sneaking off to somewhere."

_Not everyone,_ Byleth thinks, and then Ashe and Annette emerge from Dedue's room as if they were there to immediately contradict his thoughts. Sothis stares at him and Byleth tries his best not to look her way lest he explode into flames.

"Wow," says Annette, who has always been terrible at being blasé and subtle. "What a coincidence, professor!" 

"Yes, wow," Ashe says, his voice slightly coy. "We're all here, outside, on this lovely night!"

Byleth nods at them. "Hello," he says, because what else does one say when cornered by wild lions. "Well. Excuse me then-"

Dimitri strolls up by Byleth's side in one short stride. "Such a beautiful night for a walk, is it not?" He shoots Byleth one of his small, polite smiles that could outshine the stars in the night sky. 

"Just lovely," Annette agrees, stepping up to the two of them to match their steps. Dedue and Ashe follow from behind the two.

Sothis floats to sit atop Byleth's shoulders and immediately yanks at his hair. "Do something, Byleth! We can't take them all to the Holy Tomb!"

_What do you suggest I do?_

"D-divine Pulse, maybe?" She suggests awkwardly, tugging at her own hair. 

Even with time at Byleth's fingertips, they've run out of it. They're already at Linhardt's door. Byleth pushes open Linhardt's door to see Linhardt, half asleep, sitting around a board game with Mercedes, Ingrid, Felix, Sylvain, and...

"Oh!" Caspar exclaims, waving a hand. "Hey, professor! You and the others interested in playing a round with us?"

Sothis slips off of his shoulders and glides slowly to the floor, lying there, motionless. "Oh _nooooooo...._" Sothis complains, hands over her face. "How are we going to get away from this one?!"

Linhardt spots Byleth at the door, who is on the verge on banging his head into the door frame. He shakes himself awake, brushes dust off of his knees, and waves. "Hello. Let's go now."

"Wow," Mercedes says, hand to her mouth. "You all are going somewhere? Exciting! Let me join you!"

"Let me in on this!" Ingrid agrees, unable to keep a smile off of her face.

"Sounds fun! A little nightly stroll? Romantic," Sylvain croons, his smirk spreading across his face. "I'm coming along."

While Felix doesn't say anything, he stands along with the rest of them and gives Byleth a _look._

"Wow!" Caspar exclaims, standing from the floor. "You're all heading somewhere! I want to come along!"

Byleth closes his eyes. _Divine Pulse time._

"Wait!" Sothis shrieks, clambering up from the floor. "Wait, wait, how far are you planning to go back?!"

He tilts his head to the side in thought. _Maybe... before the tournament, so I can tell Linhardt not to say this aloud?_

Surprisingly, Sothis shakes her head frantically. "No, no, no no no. No way. No Divine Pulses that take longer than a couple of hours in time."

_Why?_

She slips her hand into his. "Remember what happened last time you went back nearly an entire day?" She waits for Byleth to nod in understanding. "Yes. Before we do anything like that again, we must test this out on a free day, where there are no variables like this. We have to find out the limits."

_So... We're just going to let them tag along?_

Her face crumples at his words. "Ugh, you're right! I don't want them to see the Holy Tomb like this, though! Who knows what the consequences will be?! But most of all, I do not want any harm to come to you ever again!"

The students push past Byleth and out the door. "Well?" Linhardt prompts, looking at Byleth. "We can't go there without you."

Byleth stares up at the ceiling for a moment as if it would grant him strength. "Why don't we... do this another time, Linhardt?"

Now, Linhardt would never be the sort to pout, but the look on his face could be nothing else but one. "Professor. You didn't lie to me, did you? You said if I entered the tournament, and won, that'd you would take me back there."

"I did say that," Byleth allows, "but I never said when I would take you back there. And I never agreed to take anyone else there."

The look on his face really becomes a pout. "Professor..."

"No," Byleth insists. 

Sylvain slaps him on the back. "Come on now, professor!" He slaps him on the back harder, and Byleth wonders what he's done to deserve this. "He's worked hard, right?"

"I spoil you all too much, it seems," Byleth says, and they all wince as one. "I apologize, Linhardt, but I will not bend on this matter."

"But why," Annette says, drawing out the last syllable. "Why so secretive? It can't be something so secret that you have to keep it from us all!"

"It can't hurt to confide in us," Ingrid insists. "It can't be a big deal to let us know, right?"

_It can be._

Byleth sighs, but before he can say anything more-

"Hey. You kids. It's late, and you've all got class tomorrow. Back to your rooms." Byleth looks around the crowd of students to see his father standing there, hands on his hips. Sothis lets out a huge sigh of relief.

"Father," Byleth greets, trying to show as much relief on his face as he possibly can, although it's a difficult feat.

His father nods in his direction, then turns to the others, arching a single brow. "I don't need to escort you all back to your rooms, do I?"

Everyone groans, Felix especially, but they all disperse, save for Linhardt. Jeralt steps up to Byleth and gives him a pat on the head. "Hey kiddo. Feeling better?"

"Sooooo much better," Sothis exclaims, as Byleth nods. "Thanks for saving us!"

Linhardt looks between the two of them. "May we go now? I'm sure that if it's just us, you'll allow me to accompany you."

"Go?" Jeralt inquires.

"Why, underground, of course." Linhardt's eyes sparkle. 

Jeralt frowns. "Ah, yeah, that place. Yeah, why not? I've been curious about something myself."

Byleth and Sothis shoot Jeralt a betrayed look. "I guess we're going anyway," Sothis whines, sinking her face into Byleth's side.

"Father-"

His father rubs a hand over his face. "To be honest, I've been wanting to test out my own theory from last time myself. Of course, only if that's alright with you, Byleth."

Linhardt perks up, suddenly very awake. "Of course that's alright with him," he exclaims, and Byleth can practically feel the earth open up around him.

"Byleth?" His father asks again, a little quieter now.

He sighs. "Okay."

They walk to the gazebo in relative silence, until Linhardt of all people speaks up. "So are we ignoring the fact that they're all following us right now?"

Byleth, Sothis, and Jeralt sigh in sync. Byleth's father shoots the pillar they're all trying to hide behind a glare, and Dimitri and the rest of the Blue Lions sheepishly stumble out of their poorly concealed hiding spot. Caspar isn't even trying to hide.

"Take us with you!" Caspar declares, hands on his hips. "You're going somewhere cool, aren't you?"

Even Linhardt looks exhausted now. "No," he states, ignoring Caspar's indignant squawk, and then turns towards Byleth. "Let's do this again another night."

"Fine by me," Jeralt yawns, ruffling Byleth's hair before leaving for his quarters. Byleth watches all of his students, making sure that they disperse properly, and then leaves for his own room. 

"That was awful," Sothis groans, once they finally return to Byleth's room. 

Byleth strips off his armor before he looks at her. _Sothis?_

"Mm?" She's already dived underneath the bedsheets.

_Is it really a bad thing to let them see the Holy Tomb this early?_

Sothis sighs. "It's not that it's a bad thing per say, but it would be in our best interests to make sure that we don't accidentally set off some events that might ruin us in the future."

_Linhardt already saw, though._

Rolling her eyes, she fluffs up a pillow, despite the fact that she cannot touch it. "Linhardt is dangerous," she says, as Byleth thinks of the older boy napping in his food, "not in the way you're thinking, of course, but in the way that he's still an unknown variable. If it was say, Lysithea, or Dorothea, who had joined your class in the past, I think it would be better."

_Why?_

"You know them better," she replies, satisfied with her pillow fluffing. "You know where their loyalties lie once they join you."

Byleth takes off his boots, one by one, and piles them neatly at the foot of his bed. _Mm. Should I try to recruit more people, then? Just in case?_

Sothis puts a finger to her chin. "It may be a good idea. More allies. But that also means more ways that it could go wrong."

_Like?_

She puts a hand up to tick off a few fingers. "Caspar's big mouth. Ferdinand's tendency to want to one up Edelgard. Marianne's fragile nature. The fact that Hilda would likely tell Claude everything she learns-"

Making sure his door was firmly shut, Byleth walks back to the bed and relaxes on it. _Is that such a bad thing?_

"Huh?"

_Wouldn't it be in our best interests to team up with Claude?_

At this statement, Sothis snorts. "Claude would be the most dangerous variable of all. Who knows what that man was thinking when he gave you Failnaught. I mean, come on! Couldn't he at the very least stay in Fódlan to help us finish the war, and then go off on his important journey?"

_I want to trust him._

"That's why I have to distrust him," Sothis insists. "You're easily influenced by others, and far too compassionate."

_Am not._

"Are too." 

Their exchange continues into the night, when Byleth cannot remember falling into a restless sleep- until he wakes up the next morning- the feeling of Dima's hands around his neck.

_I am your sword._

.

Saint Cethleann day is interesting, because all of his students are insistent on sitting upfront with Byleth. Normally, most of them would shrink away from standing in the front- either unwilling to sing or far too shy about it. Only Annette and Mercedes seemed somewhat eager to sing.

It was normal for Sylvain to try and sneak away, for Felix to get a glazed look in his eyes, but even they are strangely intent today, watching Byleth's every move. It's almost unsettling.

But now all nine of them are squished onto a pew, with Byleth standing in front of them. 

"Please rise for the closing hymn," Seteth declares, and they all stand.

Byleth is quite adamant about making his students sing- their faith would improve, and it would make their bonds stronger. It was easy, after all, for music to bring people together.

But none of them are singing.

They're just staring at Byleth's face.

"Do you not know the words?" Byleth whispers, a little after the choir begins to sing.

"No," Dedue says, a little quicker than normal. "We do not."

"Why don't you sing, professor," Ingrid offers, looking everywhere but in his eyes. "And we'll try and follow along."

"I don't know the words either," Byleth murmurs, careful not to draw attention to himself. For some reason, that seems to make them all deflate. "Remember? I did not grow up learning these songs."

"But-" Annette begins, and then winces when Seteth shoots her a sharp look. 

"I can hum along," Byleth says, when they still look a little disappointed. He joins in with the choir, taking the melody, and humming alongside them. Annette immediately joins him in humming, smiling to herself.

Inexplicably, this makes all of them happier, so when Seteth pulls him aside and chews him out, he still thinks it's worth it.

Byleth makes sure to present a huge bouquet of flowers to Flayn with Seteth in sight. It was her birthday, after all.

.

"This is some great tea, teach," Claude says, after a huge gulp of the Almyran pine needle blend that Byleth had carefully procured specifically for his birthday.

Byleth takes a sip of his own tea before answering. "I'm glad. Happy birthday, Claude." He passes Claude his gift, a new pair of riding boots. His smile practically glows once he sees them. "Wow! Is this for me? You really shouldn't have, teach!"

"You're welcome," Byleth replies, feeling a little awkward. He still doesn't know how to interact with Claude.

He was fond of Claude, really. He was smart, and charming, and yet a total enigma. Byleth knew about two things about him, and he was sure that those facts were probably incorrect. It felt as if whatever Claude designed to show him was at least somewhat false- even when giving Byleth Failnaught, he still couldn't read him.

But he cared for him. There was something about his total trust in Byleth and Dimitri- an assuredness that they would come and rescue him, that he would risk his entire life and an entire town on it. An intimate trust that Byleth had no idea that he was even worthy of. Before this, when Byleth met him on Gronder field, the last thing Byleth wanted to do was harm the man.

So he let him leave the battle, relatively unharmed.

Seeing the man younger, face still a little soft with youth, it made Byleth's heart swell. He wanted to protect this person, too. Even if he didn't entirely understand him or his motives, he wanted to protect him.

Claude takes a bite of a peach-flavoured tart before he speaks again. "You're such a mystery," he states, and Byleth is momentarily unsettled by the focus in his eyes.

"I disagree," Byleth responds, finishing his cup of tea. He pours himself another cup, careful to not let the liquid pour over the rim.

Byleth hopes that that statement kills the train of conversation entirely, but Claude does not let up.

"Well, I disagree," Claude retorts, finishing the tart and licking the crumbs from his mouth. "Your life must be so interesting right now. You coincidentally meet with royalty, and now you're teaching at the most prestigious school in all of Fódlan, blatantly favored by the Archbishop of the most prominent religion on the continent? And you don't even seem phased."

Instead of responding, Byleth takes a long sip of his tea. Seeing this, Claude leans back in his chair, assessing Byleth carefully while trying to pretend like he wasn't.

"See," Claude insists. "Look at you. You know, most people would kill for this sorta power and influence, right?"

When Byleth doesn't respond immediately, Claude braces his elbows onto the table, leaning in. "But you're not most people, are you?"

Sothis starts to look irritated, so Byleth forces himself to speak up. "I... don't know how you want me to reply to that."

For some reason, this makes Claude laugh a little. "I'm surprised that you answered at all, actually. Your blank stare is kinda intimidating, you know? At least you're pretty. You've even got that hair... Interesting colour, right? Looks a lot like the Archbishop's hair."

Unconsciously, Byleth reaches up to touch his pale green hair. "I guess."

"Are you secretly related?" Claude says, leaning in a little more, eyes shining. "Gah, you should have taught my class. I don't like when the mystery is revealed right away! We should have taken our sweet time learning about each other."

"I... wasn't going to tell you anything."

"Aha. So you do have a reason why your hair is that colour."

Byleth freezes, but hopefully Claude hasn't observed him long enough to notice. "Is that why she favours you so much? Because you're secretly related?"

"I wonder if there's a term for 'she created my mother through artificial means but isn't actually her mom,'" Sothis wonders aloud.

"I think that it's just a coincidence," Byleth lies. "I don't think that we're really related."

"Hmm." Claude replies, and then takes another gulp of tea. "Sure, whatever."

"Yeah," Sothis sighs, leaning against Byleth, "he doesn't believe you at all."

"Let's change the subject," Claude says, after he eats another tart. "Did you hear that they're finally gonna do something about that body?"

"What body?"

"The body of that guy that they think Kostas killed, of course!" Claude says, beaming wide. Byleth wonders if that's something to grin over.

Byleth will always be grateful for his blank expression. "Oh?"

"Yeah," Claude continues, snatching a chocolate cookie off of the tray. "Apparently, Seteth approached Dimitri and asked if he could get in touch with that famous healer or whatever from Faerghus, and invite her over. Something is up with that dead dude's body, or so they say."

For some reason, that's ringing a bell. Several bells. "Famous?"

"Yeah, the one that like, stopped a plague or something," Claude shoves a cookie into his mouth, as if for dramatic effect. "I think her name is Cornelia?"

Byleth almost drops his tea cup. Immediately, Sothis dives into Byleth's memories, and freezes.

Cornelia, who had arranged the murder of Dimitri's uncle, and Dimitri's execution. Cornelia, who was responding for Dedue's near demise. Cornelia, who was also responsible for the oppression of those who lived in the capital, and who allowed for Edelgard's influence to spread all throughout Faerghus.

Sothis smiles at Byleth. "Let's kill her. As soon as she arrives."

"No."

"No?" Claude inquires, tilting his head to the side. Byleth realizes that he's said the word aloud, and has to physically stop himself from swallowing. Claude would definitely latch onto that one little movement.

"Ah, my apologies," Byleth says, trying to cover up his little slip of the tongue. Of course, this only makes Claude regard him oddly. "I didn't mean to say that out loud."

Claude picks up his tea again, frowning a little. "Aw, the tea's become a little cold," Claude states, in an effort to make Byleth lower his guard.

Byleth's waiting for it. 

"Care to share what's on your mind, teach?"

There it is.

"No," Byleth says, tone even. "No, nothing's on my mind."

"Are you sure?" Claude asks. "I would love to pick at your mind a little, see what you're thinking. You don't share much, save for maybe with your dad."

Byleth carefully sets his tea cup down. "If we're sharing, why don't you share something about yourself?"

Claude puts a dramatic hand to his chest. "Me? I am definitely not as interesting as you are, teach."

With as much drama as he can possibly place into an action, Byleth picks up the tea cup again and lifts it to his lips. "Ah," he says, monotone, "the tea has become cold."

Eyes wide, Claude gasps dramatically. "Are you mocking me?" Claude exclaims, a little high pitched. "Why, teach, I am so offended right now!"

"I would never," Byleth says, voice still a little bland. This makes Claude chuckle a little. 

Claude eats a few more cookies, thanks him for the gift and the tea, and then leaves, whistling the entire time. The bush concealing the Blue Lions rustles slightly, and Byleth knows that they're all trying to escape unseen.

Sothis sighs a little. "So, he's still not going to share anything with us. Fine, be that way. Byleth, do you really want to be allies with him?"

_I do._

"Then we've got to get him to open up as well," Sothis declares. "I still think that we should kill that Cornelia woman."

_It's not that I don't want to, I just think that it'll be less simple to kill her right now compared to Solon._

"That's right," Sothis murmurs, looking deep in thought. "Right now, she's still important to the Kingdom. It'll be far too suspicious if she just dies randomly. Still. I do wonder what they found strange with Solon's body?"

_I don't know, but-_

"Professor?" 

Byleth looks up from the table to see Dimitri sliding into the seat Claude had just vacated. He notices a few stray leaves in the prince's hair, presumably from the bush, so he reaches out and brushes them out with his hand. At his touch, Dimitri flushes deeply.

"My apologies," Byleth says, a little quiet. "I touched you without permission."

Dimitri blinks quickly. "No, no! You don't need permission to touch me-! Ah, that is, I-"

The bush lets out a laugh that sounds distinctly like Sylvain, which makes Dimitri flush harder. "It's alright," Dimitri insists, a little quieter now. "Do as you wish with me."

It's Byleth's turn to blink, because those words are... "...What brings you here, Dimitri?"

"Well, I was hoping to share some tea with you, professor," Dimitri says, not looking at him. 

"Okay. The tea has grown cold," Byleth says, standing. "I'll make something new."

Dimitri stands with him, pushing out of his chair. "Oh! Allow me to join you!" Dimitri allows Byleth to lead him to the dining hall, when the Blue Lions try to follow them from behind. 

Byleth is standing in front of the shelves, trying to decide between certain chamomile flowers, when Dimitri speaks up.

"Professor?"

"Yes?"

"I was wondering... There was something that you said to Lord Lonato the other day... Something about how ridiculous you thought it was, to talk that man out of revenge."

He stills. "What about it?"

Byleth doesn't need to be looking at Dimitri to know that his hands are clenched up into tight fists. "Well. Do you begrudge the fact that he wanted to take revenge on both Rhea and Catherine, for being directly involved in the murder of his son?"

"I wouldn't begrudge anyone for being angry," Byleth begins, unsure about how he'll say this. "But he still involved innocents, which is what I can be angry at him for."

Dimitri pauses. "Ah." Byleth can practically see the prince force himself to relax.

"Do you think that he's justified in wanting them dead?" Dimitri whispers, under his breath. "Is that alright?"

"Of course he is," Byleth replies immediately, "I would be more concerned if he felt nothing when someone he loves was murdered."

Dimitri breathes a sigh of relief, but Byleth isn't done. "I think that the best revenge is letting go and living a good life," Byleth says, and before Dimitri can lash out, "but it's impossible for most. Even for me. I'm not a good person."

"That's not true," Dimitri states, and the force in his voice wills Byleth to turn around to look at him. "You're so good. So compassionate, despite all your hardships... I am the one who-"

He cuts himself off abruptly, hand trailing absently over the finger Byleth knows wears the ring. "I want you to think that I am a good person, too."

"You are," Byleth says, a little desperately. He knows Dimitri thinks that Byleth has no idea what he's really agreeing to. "You are a good person."

Dimitri smiles at him, a little soft, miserably forlorn. His dimples are prominent on his face. "Then I had best live up to your expectations, then. Come now, professor. I have always wanted to see how you brew tea."

Byleth doesn't press the issue.

"You coward," Sothis murmurs, and Byleth does not refute the accusation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was basically a bunch of buildup but i still hope you enjoyed! i was absolutely blown away by the support and love i got on the last chapter and i was so so so happy- two time was probably one of my favourite chapters to write so far and it means so much that yall liked it. thank you!
> 
> if any of you are interested in the 3H discord server i always talk about, here's the link! it's only a 24 hr one, so if you miss the timeframe and you're interested please message me on tumblr! thank u https://discord.gg/yku2ZJ
> 
> I AM SO EXCITED FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER YALL DONT EVEN KNOW I LOVE WRITING PLOT BUT GODDAMN I STRUGGLE WITH FIGHTING SCENES
> 
> EDIT: hello to the person copy pasting my fic onto quotev and wattpad and saying it's theirs! yes you, Yuna-Hikari-Haru/Memory-Artist-Luna! please cease these actions at once and take down my work, which you have not received permission to post. thank you! keep off my fic. failure to do so will have serious consequences.
> 
> byleth/dimitri C+ rank  
byleth/dedue C+ rank  
byleth/felix C+ rank  
byleth/annette C+ rank  
byleth/ingrid C+ rank  
byleth/sylvain C+ rank  
byleth/mercedes C+ rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt C+ rank
> 
> byleth/caspar C rank  
byleth/flayn C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/claude C rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea C rank


	10. mine own

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cannot fucking believe this is a thing that i have to say for some people to understand. do not repost my work. no one has received permission to repost my work, and they never will. thank you
> 
> holy shit my dudes like. for real i be like. seriously in love with y'all honestly y'all are too kind to me i blush over every comment like ♡♡♡ wow. idk if you've noticed but i like to respond sometime after i post the next chapter lol. i hope im making you the slightest bit happy as you guys make me. thank you so so much for your constant support. ♡
> 
> SHOUTOUT TO JADE, I WANTED TO NAME THIS CHAPTER THUNK JUST FOR HER ♡♡♡
> 
> uhh reminder that this is a mature rated fic! there is some body horror in this chapter! take care, okay!

_"You're staring."_

_Of course, this only makes Dima's stare more intense, the weight of his stare hefty. His eye crinkles with glee. "Can I not stare at you? You're saying something important, after all."_

_He squeezes Byleth's hand gently. _

_"I'm not."_

_"You are," Dima insists. "You never talk about yourself. It's quite odd. You are so very dear to me, and I know you as you are now, and I know you on the battlefield, and I know the exact shade of your eyes and how you take your tea- but I don't know much about your past. So when you say anything about it, why are you surprised that I am hanging off your every word?"_

_Byleth hums. "It's not really that interesting."_

_"It is," Dima replies, lacing their fingers together. "You are an enigma, Byleth. I want to learn everything about you. You already know everything about me."_

_In response, Byleth shakes his head. "I don't."_

_"You do," Dima says. "I know that you're quite observant. You know when to bring me flowers when I am having a rough day, when I am about to break another lance. You know that I bloom in your presence, yearning to be seen, like a flower begging to be blessed by the sun."_

_"...I didn't know that."_

_"You didn't?" Dima exclaims, eyes suddenly wide. "I had the most embarrassing crush on you when I was a student! I practically begged you to come back to Faerghus with me, instead of you becoming Archbishop! And that wasn't long ago!"_

_It's Byleth's turn to stare. "I thought that you wanted me an advisor, or a general."_

_For some reason, this makes Dima laugh. He takes Byleth's free hand and turns so that they're facing each other. Byleth is struck dumb by the stars in Dima's eyes, by their close proximity. _

_"Allow me to make this clear," Dima begins, and it's soft, breathy, like a whisper. "I want to spend the rest of my days learning everything there is to know about you. I want to learn what you were like as a child, I want to know how you spent your days, I want to know everything. I wish to learn what you look like when you wake in the morning, and I want to know what it's like to kiss you. I want to know if you'll blush if I tuck your hair behind your ear. I want to know the heat of your body, pressed against mine. Is that acceptable?"_

_Despite the fact that Dima was blushing heavily throughout that entire statement, his tone remained calm. Byleth wishes that he could say the same for himself. "How forward of you."_

_"If I don't say it like this," Dima begins, only now beginning to flush, "you may remain blissfully unaware even as I spiral into a wanton, desperate mess at your feet."_

_"I don't know what to say," Byleth replies. "I hardly know anything about myself."_

_"That's alright," Dima says, his eyes crinkling with the force of his smile. "That's really the entire point of learning. We'll discover these things together."_

_Byleth is suddenly hit with the full force of his emotions. He loves this man, he loves him so dearly that surely Byleth's own heart actually beat within Dima's body, that every pulse of his heart gave life to Byleth's chest. For years Byleth had wondered where his pulse had gone, or if he had even possessed one in the first place. In reality, his heart was not his own alone- but Dima's, and that it beat steadily there, sure and strong. His heart did not beat for himself. It beat for Dima, and the Blue Lions, and his father. It beat for the mercenaries, as well as the others that had helped him along. It beat for Sothis. It beat for all of his loved ones._

_"Why me?" Byleth asks, instead of all the other questions bouncing around his head. Inexplicably, he suddenly fears the answer._

_Dima only smiles. "While you've been learning about me, and the rest of us... I have been learning about you as well, you know?"_

_"And what have you learned?"_

_Another smile, slow and sweet, practically dripping honey. It's slightly slanted, a little teasing, and several kinds of awful- the kind of expression that leaves Byleth breathless and at a loss for words. "That I love you. Even the parts that I do not know. That I have never met a person so compassionate, so giving. That I would lay waste to nations to have you look my way. That I am a lucky man, to even have you here with me, tonight."_

_Byleth opens his mouth, closes it, and then settles for looking away. Dima laughs and somehow, presses closer to Byleth, filling not only his mind and chest but his personal space. "You don't have to say anything. You do not need to return my feelings. I just wanted to make sure that you are aware of them."_

_"I..."_

_Dima, impossibly, leans in closer. His eyes possess a sort of fondness Byleth had no idea that he was even worthy of. "Byleth? May I?"_

_"...May you what?"_

_"Byleth..."_

_Byleth._

"Professor Byleth!"

Byleth shakes himself awake, pushing away from the table. He fell asleep in the library, poring over several books about the most famous bloodlines in Fódlan. Rubbing at one eye, he blinks up at Dimitri and Dedue, who stood over his chair. "Ah," Byleth says, through a small yawn. "Is it time already?"

"Professor," Dimitri begins to scold him, "you haven't been sleeping well, have you? We have told you time and time again to go to a healer!"

"It's not my nonexistent wounds," Byleth repeats, for what seems to be the millionth time. "I have never slept well."

His words are pointed, and Sothis, who was waking from her nap on the chair across from him, shoots him a weak glare. "Not..." Sothis pauses to yawn, "not my fault you inherited some of my traits. There are thousands of people that would be honored for me to share a body with them! You should be grateful."

Louder than necessary, Byleth shuts the books, and Sothis flinches at the noise. "Let me just put these away, and I'll join you."

Eager to be of some help, Dimitri eagerly scoops up a few of the books. Dedue immediately follows in his footsteps, taking some of the books out of Dimitri's hold and stepping away before he can grab them back. Dimitri shoots the other boy a half-teasing, half-serious frown, and Byleth turns away before they can see his small grin.

"Professor?"

"Yes?" Byleth asks, not facing the boys. He's sliding the books back onto the shelves carefully, trying not to be as loud as he was closing them. 

"Why were you reading about House Bartels and House Hyrm?" Dimitri inquires. He sounds more curious than accusing, but Byleth still straightens. 

Instead of saying something like, say, the truth, Byleth shrugs. "Before I came to the academy, I knew nothing of nobility or crests. Might as well read up on it."

"I would be happy to teach you about the royals and nobility of Faerghus," Dimitri offers, sounding a tad bit excited. He wonders why the prince's voice is positively radiating with happiness, then realizes that Dimitri had always liked to be helpful. 

"Perhaps after we're done with today," Byleth responds, pretending like he doesn't see Dimitri fighting back a bigger smile.

When they're finished with putting all of the novels and books away, Dimitri and Dedue lead Byleth to the cathedral. On the way there, Byleth prods Sothis.

_Sothis?_

Sothis floats down from where she was hovering above them, legs kicking out. "What is it, Byleth?"

_You can see my dreams, right?_

She wrinkles her nose. "Is this about when your Dima- and the sword- and the seeping darkness- because trust me, I have already done my very best to forget all about it."

_No._ For some reason, Byleth feels almost embarrassed. _Something else._

Dropping to the floor without a sound, she matches his stride. "Well then, out with it! Don't dodge the subject when you were the one to bring it up!"

Byleth swallows. _I believe that some of these dreams are not really mine._

A pause. "What do you mean?"

_Well,_ Byleth thinks, somewhat nervous. _Rather than them not being my dreams, I don't think that they are my memories. Recently, I've been dreaming about the past, and of Dima, and I'm wondering if they're just products of my own mind, or my real memories, the past that I cannot escape from._

Sothis takes a moment to rummage through his thoughts. "I think these are your memories," she says, after another pause. "No, I am positive that they are your memories, and not some figment of your dreams. Why?"

_I do not believe that Dima would say such things._

"What things?" Sothis asks, staring at him with an odd expression.

Byleth blinks. _I won't repeat them._

A smirk crawls across her face viciously, one that reminds Byleth distinctly of Sylvain and makes him incredibly uncomfortable. "Oh? What things? Things like, 'I wish to learn-'"

_Please don't._

She pouts. "You're absolutely no fun whatsoever. Fine. If you don't get it, I will repeat it again for you. These are your memories, even if you don't remember them. I wouldn't expect you to anyway, you've always had a terrible memory. The only thing that you can remember without thinking deeply about it is fighting! Honestly!"

It feels as if the space within Byleth's chest has been filled with clouds, taking up all the space there and creating devastating storms within his body.

"Wait, are you upset or something? Or rather, do you not believe his words?" Sothis demands, sounding incredulous. "I thought you-"

"Professor?"

Byleth blinks away the turmoil festering and bubbling beneath his skin. He can still feel it crawling and creeping along his insides, pulsating like a heart unbound. "Yes?"

Dimitri clears his throat. "The Goddess' Rite of Rebirth is finally here. I asked Ingrid to round up your mercenaries! Let's move ahead with our plan."

"Leave it to me," Dedue replies immediately, nodding. "Professor, are you in as well?"

With a nod, Byleth agrees. "I'm hungry," he says, which was the truth.

"Umm... Oh!" Annette cuts in, before anyone can say anything. "Well, I'll be sure to whip you up some tasty treats when this is all over!"

He inclines his head again in thanks. 

Sylvain is groaning. "Ughhh. I can't believe we have to go on patrol when there's a festival in town! Professor, can't we sneak out and leave the patrolling to someone else?"

Byleth is about to refuse, but then he thinks about it. Although he was fighting to stop a war, there was no telling what sort of action could set it off. Perhaps he should let his students enjoy the festival. There was no telling when they would be able to enjoy another event.

"...Huh," Sothis begins, looking deep in thought as well. "Can you take on the mages by yourself?"

_I can,_ Byleth thinks back. _And I've got the mercenaries with me._

A little thrill goes up and down his spine. He wouldn't say he was reckless, running into battle like Felix, but there was no denying that Byleth enjoyed a good battle. And, as soon as he got his sword back...

Byleth missed the Sword of Creator dearly. After wielding that blade for so long, any other weapon had felt wrong in his grasp. Silver swords, gauntlets, even magic didn't seem right. He'd been spoiled by the sheer power of the relic.

"Oh!" Sothis exclaims, sounding a little excited. "And maybe we can battle the Death Knight without worrying about the students? Or perform what seems to be your favourite action right now... talking the enemies down..."

Another rush of adrenaline fills his veins. Byleth was never one to shy away from a good fight. _If anything goes wrong..._

"...We have thirteen Divine Pulses," Sothis finishes. "This is either the most stupid or brilliant idea we've ever had. Actually, I think it's quite stupid. But I can feel your excitement as my own. This is so moronic. Let's do it."

_...I thought you wouldn't enjoy the idea._

Sothis shrugs. "I don't, not really." Before Byleth can reply, she barrels on. "But if you've inherited my tendency to sleep for long periods of time, you've infected me with a thrill for battle. I've seen your memories. I know that there's nothing more exciting to you compared to the heat of battle, and fighting difficult battles. And we've got multiple chances. And dozens of your mercenaries. As stupid as they seem, your father wouldn't hire any unskilled hands. Besides, I remember those mages being distinctly weak. Hurry and tell them, before I change my mind!"

With that decided, Byleth focuses back on his students. "...If you want to enjoy the festival," he begins, a little quieter now. "You have my permission."

The Blue Lions only stare.

Sylvain rubs the back of his neck, uncharacteristically nervous. "Professor, you know I was joking right? Come on, aren't you supposed to say things like 'don't go' and 'please stay?'"

Rolling his eyes, Felix crosses his arms across his chest. "What are you even saying? Have you been reading out of Ashe's novels? Or have you been using those lines on everything with a pulse?"

Ashe sputters, and before he can defend himself, Dimitri cuts in. "Of course we wouldn't abandon you for some festival, professor? Come now."

All of the Blue Lions nod in earnest agreement. Even the mercenaries, who are snickering to themselves.

Byleth can feel Sothis' glee rippling across his mind. He glares at her. _...You weren't actually planning on making me go in there without them, were you. You knew that they would disagree._

She examines her nails as if they bore the secrets of the universe. "Of course not, dummy."

_Then why go along with it?_

Sothis shrugs. "You're the one being an idiot. You actually believe that your Dima did not care for you. How could you possibly think such a thing, with the truth right in front of you?" She gestures lazily at his students, who are all watching him with wide eyes.

"Excuse me, professor," Linhardt asks, cutting into his thoughts before Byleth can reply to Sothis.

"What is it, Linhardt?"

The boy fidgets with his hands for a moment. "Say we do run into enemies. Will we have to... will we have to kill them?"

There's no skirting around this topic. "Yes. If it cannot be avoided, then yes."

Linhardt seems to deflate. "I- I see. Alright then." Mercedes inches closer to him, pressing a comforting hand to his back.

Felix scoffs. "Did you not have to kill anyone on your missions when you were with the Black Eagles?"

"Felix," Ingrid scolds.

"I did," Linhardt replies, a little more bland than usual. He's staring down at his hands, flexing them nervously. "I did."

"Well," Annette cuts in, forcing a cheerful smile. "On our last mission, we didn't have to kill anyone! We just knocked them out, and it was fine!"

The boy raises his brows. "But I heard that you quelled Lord Lonato's rebellion?" 

Ashe swallows, and looks over to Byleth. When he nods, Ashe turns back to Linhardt. "It's a long story that probably should be saved for later. But to summarize, we just had to... knock some people out."

Linhardt turns to Byleth. "How do you know when someone's knocked out for real, professor?"

Byleth makes vague hand movements that could possibly communicate fighting. "When it makes a 'thunk' sound, I think."

The Blue Lions stare. "I'm sorry," Ingrid begins, looking floored. "A what sound?"

"Thunk," Byleth says once more, swinging his hand down with slightly more enthusiasm.

"_Thunk,_" Ashe repeats, looking slightly starry eyed. 

Dimitri lets out a little chuckle, one that has them all staring. It's such a happy sound, that many of the Blue Lions smile along with him. "You're- you're so cute, professor."

"Cute?" Byleth asks, a little confused. He's never been called cute before, save perhaps by the mercenaries. 

The prince waves it off, but now he's a little pink in the face. "Sorry, sorry, it's nothing. We're counting on you, professor."

Like last time, Seteth and Flayn appear as if from out of nowhere, approaching their group with a determined gait. "You seem a mite too relaxed for my liking," he accuses, "the Goddess' Rite of Rebirth is about to begin. While we are in the Goddess Tower, we are relying on you to secure the locations that are lacking in defense."

Flayn hides a giggle behind her hand, giving a Byleth a look filled with abstract glee. "May I let you in on something, professor? My brother can be a bit... callous."

Seteth gives her a wide eyed look, but she forgets on, as if she could not see it. "He told me that he was concerned about you, and hinted that perhaps you would be better off patrolling a coffin!" She laughs again, not hiding this sound behind a concealing hand.

Byleth can practically feel the nervous energy radiating off of Seteth. "That was said in jest, Flayn. And in confidence," Seteth hisses, making Flayn turn to hide a teasing smile. "Please remain by my side and do not cause any more trouble."

Annette and Mercedes laugh, and then stifle the sound awkwardly with a cough when Seteth turns their way. This makes Flayn seem to glow happiness.

The man clears his throat. "As a professor, you would do well to remember that it is your duty to guide your students down the path of righteousness." Seteth insists. 

Inexplicably, this makes all of his students bristle behind him. Flayn must sense it too, for she hurriedly joins the conversation. "Please excuse us, everyone. We shall see you again after the ceremony has concluded!"

The pair walk off. Once they're out of earshot, Byleth gives all of his students an assessing gaze. "What was that?"

"What was what?" Ingrid asks, head tilted to one side. 

"Why are you so on edge now?" Byleth asks, a little concerned. 

Annette pouts. "I think that he was judging you too harshly," she confesses. "What does he know about the path of righteousness, and what you're teaching us?"

"That's right," Ashe agrees, nose scrunching up. "I think his tone with you was a little too harsh."

Byleth purses his lips slightly. "I have no idea what you all are talking about. And besides, he was worried about you all. I don't blame him. He just expresses his concern in different ways."

"How do you know that?" Felix demands, sounding slightly testy.

_How do I say things like, I knew him from a past life?_

Sothis smiles. "You don't."

So Byleth shrugs instead. "I think that I can read people fairly well."

"Unfortunately for his Highness, you cannot," Sylvain insists, which makes Dimitri reach over to swat the boy. Sylvain ducks, letting out a loud squawk of protest.

Although he's a little afraid to ask, Byleth does anyway. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing," the Blue Lions chorus.

Dedue clears his throat. "It's time."

With a nod, Dimitri squares his shoulders. "All right. Let's hide where we can watch over the entrance to the Holy Mausoleum. If anyone suspicious enters, we'll follow them in and take them down. Got it?"

They're about to walk over when Ashe lets out a little 'eep.' Byleth's already got a hand on the hilt of his sword, and he turns to see Catherine standing at the entrance of the cathedral, with a few of her knights. She waves, and walks over to the Blue Lions, stride long and filled with confidence.

All of the Blue Lions, including a confused Linhardt, move slightly so they can hide Ashe from her direct line of sight. 

Sothis slaps a hand on her forehead. "Uh oh," she says, and Byleth is inclined to agree.

"Hey there," Catherine says, when she reaches them. "I don't think we've been properly introduced. I'm Catherine, a knight of Seiros. You must be the new professor. Captain Jeralt's kid, right?"

"Yes," Byleth nods. "My name is Byleth."

"Nice to meet you," she says, with a grand smile. "And, oh, I shouldn't have to say this, but don't hurt Lady Rhea, alright? I'll have to take care of you, if that happens, if you catch my drift." Catherine laughs a little when she says it.

Byleth nods, trying not to look at Ashe, who has flinched so hard Dedue had taken another step in front of him. 

"Oh," Catherine begins, peering around their shoulders. "Is that Ashe back there?"

Ashe takes a deep breath, and steps out around Dedue's back so he is more visible. "Yes," he begins, through gritted teeth. "Hello, Catherine."

Catherine frowns, likely sensing the tension around him. "Sorry to hear about Lord Lonato," she says, and Ashe's fists curl up and relax, very, very slowly. "I know that you cared for him dearly."

"Not," Ashe begins, sounding a little out of breath, "not your doing," he bites out.

Byleth hurries to cut in. "I am sorry, Catherine," he begins, hoping he doesn't sound as frantic as he feels, "but we really must continue our patrol."

Catherine slaps him on the back. "No worries, no worries! I gotta get back to my own patrol anyway. Hopefully I'll see you around later! Bye!" 

With another wave, she walks out of the cathedral, knights in tow.

"Ashe," Byleth says, as soon as she's gone. "Are you... are you alright?"

Ashe's fists are clenched into his uniform, and Dedue is rubbing his back slowly. "I will be," he hisses out. "Just- just give me a moment?"

Byleth stands off to the side as the Blue Lions all try to comfort him, but after a few moments, Ashe breaks away from the group to grasp at Byleth's hands. He gives them a tight squeeze.

"Ashe?" Byleth asks, when Ashe doesn't say anything more.

Another squeeze. "I'm alright now," he says quietly. "Let's go."

.

"It is as we suspected," Dimitri whispers, as the Western Church mages trickle into the Holy Mausoleum. "The enemy is within."

A mysterious mage, presumably the head of the group, barks orders as soon as he sees them. "Those Central Church dastards have spotted us... Buy me some time while I open the seal on the casket!"

"On it!" The soldiers call, and that's the cue for Byleth to look back on his own mercenaries and students, and nod at them silently.

They nod back. 

"Alright," Byleth begins, Sothis bringing up his memory from the last battle. The foes from the Western Church did not approach until they were approached, so there was no real reason to split up, unless Byleth really wanted his students to go on a fighting spree, which he did not want. "Stick together unless explicitly told otherwise. Yes, that means you, Felix. Mercedes, Linhardt, stay in the rear, preferably behind Dedue."

Byleth's eyes travel across the field until they land on the Death Knight. "Do not engage that one," Byleth says, "not yet."

"Not yet?!" Sylvain asks, a little shrill. "He looks kinda tough, professor."

Byleth rolls his shoulders. "I'm stronger," Byleth says, a little quiet.

This makes Sylvain laugh. "I don't doubt that you are."

They move as one group, picking off the stray mercenary or two. The students are careful not to kill anyone, delivering blows that would only knock people out, or at the very most, disable them for the rest of the battle.

"Thunk," Ingrid says, voice colored with glee, as she takes a mage down. For some reason, it makes Byleth sort of embarrassed, and makes the rest of the Blue Lions laugh.

"Do not get distracted," Byleth insists, and they all snap to attention, looking a little sheepish.

Although there were many soldiers that seemed to want to engage them, as soon as they saw them pick off individuals one by one, they seemed to hover nervously in the background, worried about their own safety. This makes Sothis roll her eyes. "Cowards."

The head mage, who was busy with the seal, finally glances over his shoulder and lets out a yelp so loud Byleth can hear it from across the hall. They're making good time. Byleth was sure that they would be able to reach the mage before he would call reinforcements. "Death Knight," the mage exclaims, shrill. "Prove your strength and scatter these fools!"

The Death Knight's hand clenches around the hilt of his scythe. "I don't take commands. Or waste my time on weaklings."

"Fine, fine!" The mage shrieks. "I have to do everything by myself, don't I? You worthless fools! You're too late anyway!" 

The mage breaks the seal.

Byleth stops in his tracks. 

Even the mercenaries have stopped to stare. 

"Aha," the mage laughs, reaching into the casket, "it's not what we were expecting, but it will do!"

"Huh," Sothis murmurs softly. "That... that did not happen last time, not this early. Divine Pulse? Or shall we see what will happen next?"

"Oh no," Dimitri says, raising his voice. "We've got to stop him from taking whatever is in that casket!"

For some reason, Byleth is not all that worried, even when the mage lifts the Sword of the Creator out. It gleams in the light, and all Byleth can think is '_unworthy._'

_How dare he,_ Byleth thinks, and it's so unlike his own, previous thoughts that he wonders if it was Sothis instead.

"What a beautiful weapon," the mage coos, running a hand down the blade slowly. Sothis shudders at the back of his mind. "I dare say that it's a hero's relic, therefore it belongs with us, the Western Church!"

He waves it around experimentally, and cackles once more. "Well, what are you doing just standing there? Clear a path for me, and let's get out of here!"

"Byleth," Sothis warns. "Maybe now would be a good time..."

"Professor," Mercedes says, trying to catch his eye. "What now? Block the doors off?"

"Wait," Byleth says, and then stops.

No one is expecting what comes next.

The blade of the sword wraps around the mage's arm, as if alive. It curls up and around the limb, movements distinctly snake-like, and it's so eerie Byleth can practically feel it upon his own skin. "W-what the hell?!" The mage shrieks, letting go of the hilt. The blade does not stop its slow ascension up his arm, and then it tightens- so much so that Byleth can practically hear the crack- although it would be covered up by the mage's shriek of pain.

"Help me," the mage screams, as he sinks to his knees. He's shaking his arm frantically, clawing at the blade with his other hand in an attempt to pry it off of his skin. "Help me! Don't just stand there, you fools! Help me- agh!"

The Sword of the Creator pulses red.

As if on cue, massive tendrils shoot out of the sword, black as night, glowing and pulsating an ugly shade of crimson. It snakes out of the blade and quickly climbs up the mage's body, the darkness alive with merciless movements, eager to consume the man's body alive.

_I thought this only happened if there was a crest stone!_ Byleth thought, in abstract horror. He'd only ever seen Miklan transform, and that seemed like an entire lifetime ago.

"He wasn't worthy," Sothis replies, sounding far too calm for this kind of situation.

_Sothis, is now really the time to be vague-_

The mage screams in horror, clawing at his mask and writhing on the floor, sounding more monster than man.

For some reason, Byleth is reminding of the darkness that Dima had licked off of his palms and off of the blade- then is immediately shaken off by the memory, as he watches the darkness seep into the mage's robes and into the crevices of his mask. 

The mage sounds like he's choking, like he was being strangled under the insistence of the dark mass of horrifying tendrils. Once the mage had been completely consumed by the void of pitch black tendrils, they spread out around him, pulsating endlessly, twisting and bending into a bigger form.

It bubbles, and writhes, and pulsates, a mass of unending horror. If Byleth listened closely, he could hear the mage still howling in what seemed like terrible pain, underneath the beast's roars.

The mass of carnage finally deigns to take a shape. Like the beast Miklan had become, it's as dark as night, four legged, and with a massive, deadly looking horn atop its head- but unlike Miklan, it's covered in glossy black scales, and it's sprouted wings- wings that did not take the form of any sort of wyvern or bird, but rather a mockery of them, as if the tendrils were merely mimicking the outline of wings rather than becoming them. What Byleth found most eerie, however, was that its entire body was covered in eyes, scarlet coloured, blinking sideways. The eyes came in different shapes and sizes. One of them seemed to take up the beast's entire face. They seemed to glow, and focused on every single individual in the room. Byleth counted seven eyes looking at him alone. 

The beast let out an ear-piercing roar.

"What the fuck," one of his mercenaries hiss. "What the actual fuck is that."

"Seconded," Sylvain says, but it comes out as more of a whisper.

"I'm out," one of the enemies shout, jumping down the stairs leading up to the casket. Creepily, all of the eyes focus on the man as one, and with one quick swipe of the beast's tail, the man is shot across the room and into one of the walls. 

The Blue Lions all look at Byleth as one. "That was a hero's relic," Dimitri exclaims, hands tightening around his lance. "What now, professor?"

"Let's run," Linhardt says, voice slightly shaky.

Byleth gives them all a once over, but before he can open his mouth, he hears the clattering of horse hooves. He turns to see the Death Knight charging at the beast, scythe raised. The beast roars, erecting a barrier, which the scythe bounces uselessly off of.

The beast opens its mouth and breathes fire, which the Death Knight only barely dodges.

"I thought that guy was with them," Felix says, jerking his chin at the fleeing enemies. 

Byleth shrugs. "I think that he only wants to fight the strong," Byleth says, before looking at his students. "You may run if you wish," Byleth insists, aware that they might not be ready to fight a beast. Besides, Byleth's fought a few by himself before at Zanado, before his students could reach him. They were tough battles, but he won nonetheless.

Despite this, he turns to his mercenaries and arches a brow. He doesn't have to say a word for them to stiffen. 

"Yeah, yeah," one of them says, readying his sword. "Let's get this over with! That thing is fuckin' freaky as hell!"

His mercenaries cheer, and then charge the beast. Byleth is about to follow, but then is stopped by a hand on his wrist. It's Dimitri, who flushes when they meet eyes. "You didn't think we'd abandon you to run away from this thing?"

"I wouldn't blame you," Byleth replies, "but if we're doing this, we're doing it now."

"Right!" His students exclaim, even the less enthusiastic ones. They run up the steps and charge the beast.

His mercenaries have already done a decent job of taking down a few of the beast's barriers, and surprisingly, so has the Death Knight. Byleth watches him hack at a few of the exposed eyes, and nods in approval.

"When the barriers are down, aim for the eyes," Byleth calls, and smiles a little to himself when he hears an overwhelming 'yes!'

Even though his students have yet to fight a demonic beast, he's surprised that all of them are falling into an easy rhythm. He can hear Annette murmuring to herself, things like 'it's like any old enemy, but bigger,' which seems to not only reassure her but the people around her.

The beast has a few devastating attacks which Byleth has to force himself to get used to, like how with a flap of the artificial wings, everyone is pushed far back, and how it could literally spew fire- intimidating, but not impossible to beat. The eyes, which seemed a little terrifying at first, only served as targets.

Byleth can feel himself ordering his students around like he would during the war, and has to make himself ease up a little. It was only one beast, and despite strong, with even stronger defense, it had nothing on the tougher beasts leading up to Edelgard in his past life. 

He could even ignore that the Death Knight was, for some reason, being oddly helpful.

The beast swings at them with his tail once more, and Ingrid is caught by the edge of the attack, groaning as she falls to the floor. Immediately, Mercedes runs over to her and heals her up as quickly as she can, which leaves her vulnerable to an attack. 

Several of the eyes focus on Mercedes, and Byleth stiffens. He's too far to reach her. He looks around frantically, then realizes that the closest person to her, Linhardt, is not only weak to most of the beast's attacks, but also perhaps a little farther than he'd like. And Dedue, whom he trusts to be able to handle at least one of the attacks, is next to Byleth, hacking away at the revealed openings in the barrier. "Mercedes!" Byleth calls, digging his sword into another eye to hopefully distract the beast. It doesn't work. The beast's claw is about to swipe at her-

The attack doesn't connect. 

Byleth freezes up when he realizes that the Death Knight has taken the brunt of the attack for Mercedes. He'd dismounted from his horse, and leapt in front of her, ruining his armor with four humungous slashes across the torso-

As well as knocking off his mask and sending it careening across the room.

To Byleth's feet.

"Are you-?!" Mercedes demands, sounding rightfully terrified. She immediately waves a healing spell over him, closing his wounds.

The Death Knight hurries to cover his face with his hands.

"Hey!" Ashe calls, notching three arrows and letting them fly- only one of them hits an eye, but it directs the beast's attention all the same. "Over here you- you ugly monster!"

Felix and Sylvain immediately step in for a follow up, breaking the last of the beast's barrier. Sensing an opportunity, Dimitri immediately sends his lance through the beast's largest eye, and the beast lets out a final, ugly roar, before crumpling to the floor.

The darkness dissolves, revealing only the mage, and the Sword of the Creator.

Out of the corner of his eye, Byleth can see the Death Knight not so discreetly searching for his mask. Byleth quickly picks it up, examining it for a moment before calling out and waving the mask around. "Looking for this?"

When the Death Knight realizes that Byleth was the one holding the mask, he stiffens, and- warps away. 

"Wait!" Mercedes calls, hand outstretched. When she realizes that he's really disappeared, she lowers her hand. It trembles slightly, and Byleth has to turn away.

Byleth allows himself a sigh of relief. "Well," Sothis begins, sounding oddly pleased. "Despite everything that was different, that went oddly fine! Despite the nightmarish beast and how the mage somehow unlocked the seal quicker than last time! I wonder if Mercedes recognized him."

When the mercenaries start patting themselves on the back, and hugging each other, the Blue Lions realize that the fight seems to be over.

"That was horrible," Linhardt exclaims, as he's brought into a hug by several of the mercenaries and Ashe. "Absolutely dreadful."

"It seems as though hero's relics really do possess terrifying power- wait, professor?" Dimitri exclaims, sounding slightly panicked. "What are you doing?!"

Byleth doesn't acknowledge him. He walks over to the sword, and picks it up, marveling at how nostalgic it seems to feel to hold the Sword of the Creator, finally. The familiar weight in his hands make him relax.

"Professor, don't!" Annette shrieks, hands over her mouth.

He gives the blade a few experimental swings, and it pulses red in his hands before finally settling. A little relieved, Byleth presses the blade to his chest, and- it wraps around his body, too.

"Get it off of him!" Sylvain shouts, running to the professor's side, alongside his other students.

"It's okay," Byleth says firmly, even if he's a bit confused at the way it crawls up his torso. "I'm alright."

The sword seems to rumble, and shake. Byleth glances down at the sword. "I think it's... hugging me?" Byleth says, and it comes out as more of a question than a statement. 

It flies back into Byleth's hand when it seems to be satisfied, and when Byleth attaches the sword to his hip, it seems to curl up there before settling.

"What the hell," spits Felix.

"Seconded," Sothis murmurs, despite the fact that no one can hear her but Byleth.

As if on cue, Catherine and her knights burst down the door, sounding frantic. "Sorry it took so long to get here! We had to catch the others, who were trying to escape-" Catherine glances around the ruined Mausoleum and gapes. "What the hell happened here?"

A few seconds after she declares this, Jeralt comes flying in through the doors, looking frantic. His eyes narrow on Byleth.

"Byleth," his father begins ominously, and Byleth has the decency to feel slightly sheepish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gimme a P! gimme an L! gimme an O! gimme a T! what's that spell? PLOT! IT'S PLOT TIME AGAIN BABY PHEW I FUCKING HATE WRITING FIGHT SCENES HAVE I SAID THAT YET GOSH I HOPE THIS ONE WAS ALRIGHT
> 
> wow i really did leave it off on a sort of cliffhanger, huh? don't worry. things that have to be addressed will be addressed- probably in the next chapter lol. this chapter really was another one of those 'these actions will have consequences' chapters lmaooo 
> 
> psst. psst. any of you read HOB? i wanted to make it seem as if the sword was like ruoye- even though it seems as if i didnt convey it properly yet. ill get there. promise. if that entire sentence made no sense to you, dont worry! ill do my best to explore what i wanna do- next chapter.
> 
> thank you for reading!
> 
> byleth/dimitri C+ rank  
byleth/dedue C+ rank  
byleth/felix C+ rank  
byleth/annette C+ rank  
byleth/ingrid C+ rank  
byleth/sylvain C+ rank  
byleth/mercedes C+ rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt C+ rank
> 
> byleth/caspar C rank  
byleth/flayn C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/claude C rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea C rank


	11. exalted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone holy fuck i have no idea how this chapter got to 7k i was just shoving as much as i could inside and ajqhqjsjsjjsjdjd now it it's 7k somehow 
> 
> to the lovely mamy and dinosaur, much love! i dont believe that theyve posted it anywhere on social media besides discord PLEASE CORRECT ME IF IM WRONG but i wanted to thank them anyway! mamy has created some lovely fanart for the fic! it's a wip, but i still love it so so much! thank you! and to dino, for their expertly crafted rendition of the ring scene. my heart is so so full ♡♡♡
> 
> as always thank u! all of you! for your lovely comments, kudos, bookmarks and much more! everytime i see that yall like my fic i swear that i smile so hard guys it's unbelievable i love you ♡ thank you again!
> 
> this chapter is straight up plot. everything is plot. aaaaaaaaaaa

"Is that what happened?" Rhea asks, serene as always. Her fingers are clasped tightly together, after Byleth finishes his tale. It wouldn't do well to lie right now.

"Yes, Rhea," Byleth says, attempting to put as much emotion into his voice as possible. 

Inexplicably, she smiles kindly at Byleth. "I cannot thank you enough for defeating those invaders in the Holy Mausoleum, and especially for protecting the Sword of the Creator. That sword is one of the Heroes' Relics, and the most precious artifact in the church's possession. It is also a weapon of terrifying power- which was demonstrated to you, as per your tale. See to it that you keep what transpired there is kept to yourself. Please ensure that the students who accompanied you understand that as well. Have I made myself clear?"

Byleth nods. "...Rhea?"

"Yes?"

"Why did that mage transform?" 

Her hands tighten across her chest. "I am assuming that you are referring to that unfortunate heretic," Rhea replies, her voice tight. "The one who dared lay their hands upon the relic despite being unworthy."

Byleth waits patiently for Rhea to collect herself. "His transformation into a monster was nothing short of divine punishment from the goddess. Punishment for someone arrogant and foolish enough to use a Hero's Relic even though they were unworthy and unqualified."

Seteth, who had not spoken until now, clears his throat. "If someone without a crest were to wield the relic you possess, they would meet the same fate as that mage."

"So, Seteth was aware of this," Sothis comments blandly, hands on her hips. "Interesting."

"But you," Rhea begins, and Byleth is startled by the present fondness in her tone, "you are worthy of wielding the Sword of the Creator, so there is no need to worry. I will entrust the sword to you. Please, use it wisely."

"Lady Rhea, wait!" Seteth exclaims. His brows furrow deeply. "Do you truly mean to give the Sword of the Creator to this stranger?! Surely it is not the sort of thing one hands over so readily, even to someone who has the ability to wield it!"

He glances at Byleth, shoulders drawn up into a tense line. "If someone like Nemesis were to appear again, all of Fódlan would be consumed by war!"

Sothis sighs. "He does have a point. Really, Rhea is quite impulsive, is she not?"

"Nemesis?" Byleth inquires, because he doesn't quite remember anything about this man. He remembers something like a dream, a faded memory, weapons falling from the sky, but whether or not that was the man that they were talking about-

"Nemesis, the King of Liberation," Seteth explains, eyes closed as if to keep emotions at bay. "He is an ancient king of mankind who was defeated by Seiros over a thousand years ago. When Fódlan was attacked by wicked gods, it is said that the goddess gifted Nemesis with the Sword of the Creator. Nemesis used that sword to defeat the wicked gods, saving all of Fódlan. Henceforth he was dubbed the King of Liberation. However, his power began to corrupt him until he, himself, turned to the darkness. Saint Seiros was forced to destroy him."

_I thought that this story would resemble that dream I had when I first met you, Sothis._

Sothis reaches into Byleth's memories to find the man in question from his dreams. She chuckles. "Do all kings dress so sloppily? That is, if this man is Nemesis." Byleth can feel her pause as she rummages through the memory. "Hey. Byleth, doesn't this woman look like-?"

"Lady Rhea," Seteth intrudes, sounding as if he were near begging. "I beg you to reconsider. Given a little more time, we could accurately assess this stranger's abilities."

Rhea shakes her head, and Byleth cannot help but notice how her headpiece stays in place despite the movement. "No. I have faith, Seteth. Faith that our friend here will not be corrupted by wickedness. Since the death of Nemesis, none have been able to wield the Sword of the Creator. Now, after all those long years of being sealed away, it has returned and found a new master."

"Rhea," Seteth replies, and Byleth is likely the only one who has realized that he did not call her 'Lady' Rhea, "are you truly satisfied like this? With entrusting... that, to a stranger?"

Rhea lifts a hand to her mouth to cover her tiny grin. "Well. It seems as if the sword itself has chosen the professor, correct?" She gestures to the sword curling lazily up Byleth's arm. It wraps around him, light enough so Byleth barely recognizes that it's there.

_This didn't happen last time,_ Byleth thinks, a little desperately. 

"May I ask you something?" Byleth asks, quieter than ever.

"You may," Rhea nods. 

"Why is the sword... moving?"

Byleth definitely does not miss the way that Rhea and Seteth look at each other. "It is a special sword imbued by the power of the goddess," Rhea explains, although Byleth's sure that's true, it's not the case in this situation. "It surely has secrets and powers that even I have yet to see."

"...There you have it, professor." Seteth interrupts, a little too quickly. "See that you do not betray the trust the archbishop has seen fit to bestow upon you."

Sothis gasps, indignant. "They're totally ignoring your question!" She even stomps her foot.

Byleth opens his mouth to say something, but is swiftly interrupted by Seteth. "You are dismissed, professor."

Woodenly, Byleth walks out of the audience chamber. Outside are the Blue Lions, who smile and wave at him once he's out, and his father, who gives him a _look._

"Uh oh," Sothis says.

Byleth nearly gulps. "Pardon me," he says to the Blue Lions. "I must speak to my father before we can discuss today's mission."

Annette mouths a 'good luck' to him as he's escorted to his father's office.

His father opens the door for him, and Byleth walks in slowly. There were not many things that Byleth would say that he was afraid of, but he was afraid of people angry at him, or disappointed in him.

Jeralt closes the door and locks it.

The sound seems to resonate around the room. 

Byleth doesn't want to be the one who speaks first, so he waits for his father to speak.

"Byleth," Jeralt begins.

"Yes..."

His father opens his mouth, closes it, then groans loudly. He runs a hand through his hair. "Dammit, Byleth, I'm too old for this. You worry me so much. Do you know how terrified I was when I heard the news? That you ran off without telling me? You know, we can actually fight these ones together, right?"

Ah. 

Another one of his greatest fears.

People worrying about him.

Jeralt pulls Byleth into his arms, hugging him tight, and Byleth collapses into his embrace. "Sorry," Byleth murmurs into his father's chest, "sorry."

They spend a few moments more like that, where Byleth pretends like he cannot feel his father shaking and like he cannot feel his eyes become a little wet. Finally, Jeralt releases his grip. "Okay. Now you're going to tell me what happened in there, because Rhea refuses to divulge anything."

Byleth tells the story again, but this time with a little more detail. Once he's done, his father puts a hand to his chin. 

"So you're absolutely positive that this didn't happen last time, especially the transformation," Jeralt recaps, as Byleth nods in turn. "Huh. Okay, so let's think. What have you done that's different?"

"Kostas," Byleth responds, lifting a finger. "Sparing Lonato..."

"It might be Lonato," Jeralt admits gruffly. "Didn't you say that he was working with the Western Church?"

Sothis sighs. "Unless Lonato learned how to quickly open ancient seals, I seriously doubt it." Byleth quickly tells his father what Sothis just said, and his father frowns deeply. 

"Maybe he's just lucky," Jeralt says, then scoffs bitterly. "Or unlucky, depending on how you look at it. Poor idiot. I wonder if the early exposure to demonic beasts would change anything... Speaking of that sword, why is it crawling up your arm? Did it do that last time as well?"

He gestures at the sword, which now has transferred to the other arm, sliding around it like a snake. 

"No," Byleth says, and despite himself it cannot help but come out as a little whine. "I am aware that relics move, but the Sword of the Creator has never moved unless I willed it to."

"Willed it to?"

He nods. "In battle," Byleth begins, and the sword flies to Byleth's hand so suddenly that Byleth blinks, "the sword can stretch out and attack far away enemies." Byleth demonstrates, careful to not hit his father or anything else in the room. It cracks out like a whip.

"Huh," his father replies. From anyone else, it would sound dismissive, but his father never liked to think aloud. "Bit freaky, isn't it? It looks like a spine."

When Byleth runs a hand down the blade, it seems to tremble. "You're right," Byleth says. "What in the world are these things made of?"

"Hm," Jeralt says. "A spine, capable of stretching, attacking, and moving. What the hell."

Byleth nods his agreement.

"Okay," his father says, clapping his hands together. "I'll try and look into it too. For now, we should plan out the rest of the months. It's Miklan, and then the Death Knight kidnapping Flayn-"

Sothis perks up. "Speaking of the Death Knight, tell your father what happened!"

"That's right," Byleth begins, a little fast. He takes the mask out of his cloak. "I knocked off the Death Knight's mask and kept it. I doubt that will stop him, but you never know. But..."

His father motions for him to keep speaking. "But...?"

"I think Mercedes saw-"

A loud thump at the door prevents Byleth from continuing. His father looks at him and nods. As one, they walk cautiously to the door, weapons in hand. Jeralt swings the door open and-

-the Blue Lions fall into the room, stumbling a little.

"Hi, professor!" Annette announces, a little awkwardly. "We were just waiting for you!"

"We definitely weren't spying or anything," Ashe adds on, voice shaking.

Felix groans. "Maybe we could have been spying," he begins, "if anyone could hear anything over Sylvain's insistent muttering!"

"Hey," Sylvain hurries to defend himself. "It wasn't just me! Mercedes and Dimitri were whispering to themselves too!"

"Listen," Linhardt cuts in. "All of us were whispering... but especially Sylvain."

"Okay, okay," Jeralt interrupts, and escorts them all inside, closing the door. "Get in already, you're blocking off the hallway. You wanted to talk to Byleth, right?"

As one, the Blue Lions stare at Dimitri. He squares his shoulders. "I was listening in on Rhea, Seteth, and Shamir's conversation with the apprehended men- they're from the Western Church, and that they were not only behind this incident, but they were also behind the manipulation of Lord Lonato. I imagine that the Western Church's intention was to eliminate Lady Rhea, and the Central Church's authority along with her. Naturally, the knights will be riding out to question the Western Church's top officials. Or rather... to punish them. As for the men they have captured... They... They will be executed."

All of the Blue Lions tense up. 

"When they ride, your Highness, we will likely be asked to carry out said punishment." Dedue says, a little solemn.

Dimitri nods, then turns to Byleth. "Indeed. Now, I don't mean to be rude, professor, but I must say your situation is rather unusual. You had said that you grew up knowing nothing about either Church, correct?" The prince glances at Jeralt. "For someone to grow up in Fódlan and yet never have any contact with the Church of Seiros is... it's hard to believe."

"I just didn't want my kid getting involved with any of that," Jeralt interrupts abruptly. "That's all."

Dimitri opens his mouth to try and say something, but he must think better of it, so he closes his mouth. 

"I wonder why the archbishop would hire someone like that as a professor," Dedue adds thoughtfully, and Byleth and Jeralt share a look that everyone else in the room catches.

There's a moment of thick, heady tension in the air that no one seems eager to break. 

"Um," Ashe begins, sounding faint. "So Lady Rhea had those people killed, right? What... what would she do if she caught Lonato...?"

Linhardt tilts his head to the side. "Caught?"

Ashe looks over at Byleth, eyes pleading, and Byleth nods. "Well... We were able to spare Lord Lonato, but he ran off. I just... I couldn't bear to hurt my father! Please don't tell anyone, Linhardt!"

Linhardt yawns, shrugging at the same time. "I wouldn't tell anyone. Besides, useless bloodshed is abhorrent. You should never be expected to raise a hand to your own father, no matter who you are."

"Linhardt," Ashe breathes, and then collapses onto Linhardt's chest, hugging the boy gently. Linhardt wheezes quietly, and his face seems to twist, but he hugs Ashe back ever so softly.

Mercedes clears her throat a little awkwardly. "Excuse me, everyone. I have something to... to say."

When she has attracted everyone's attention, she clears her throat again. "When that knight's mask was knocked off... I could be wrong, but I swear that I saw Emile underneath the mask."

"Wait," Ingrid breathes. "You mean your brother? Like, professor Jeritza?"

Mercedes nods slowly. Her hands shake a little, so Annette takes one of them and squeezes them softly. "Yes. I might be wrong, because it's been years and years since I've seen his face. But I... I think that was my brother!"

She turns wide, teary eyes on her professor. "Please, please, professor! What if someone from the church finds out that he was the one helping the Western Church's forces?! What if he was killed for it? I don't know what that boy is thinking, joining those men and helping them break into the Holy Mausoleum, but I swear that he's a good person, professor!"

"What do you want me to do?" Byleth asks, a little bewildered.

"I- I don't know," Mercedes breathes, gasping for air. "I don't know. He'll run away if he sees me, but maybe he'll listen to you. Please, professor, help Emile."

"I'll do my best," Byleth says, and is careful not to make any promises.

"Maybe..." Felix begins to say, then frowns when everyone looks at him. "Maybe he just wanted to fight strong things, like the professor said. He did try and take down that... that thing."

"Speaking of that thing," Sylvain says, sounding a little bewildered. "What the hell was that?! And why do you still carry that sword, professor?" He gestures lamely at the Sword of Creator, still curled on his arm.

Byleth shares a look with Sothis, who nods. "That was a demonic beast," he explains, and then urges the sword to fly to his hand. "The mage turned into one because the sword deemed him unworthy."

"The sword?" Ashe inquires, still clinging to Linhardt.

"Yes," Byleth replies. "A hero's relic."

"Now that you mention it..." Dimitri trails off, inspecting the sword. "It does move and look like one. But I've never seen a relic move this much!"

Mercedes' hands fly up to her pendant, clutching at it with desperate hands. "Mine pulses like a second heartbeat," she adds, and her eyes go misty.

"Areadbhar, the relic that belonged to my father, seemed to twitch as if it possessed fingers," Dimitri adds, looking lost in thought.

"And the Lance of Ruin, my house's relic, just wiggles," Sylvain offers, his smile a little too tight around the edges.

Ingrid hums thoughtfully. "I've never seen Lúin move, but then again, I haven't seen it in almost a decade, because my father likes to store it away."

Felix scoffs, folding his arms across his chest. "I've never seen the Aegis shield move."

"Have you wielded it before?" Ashe asks.

"No," Felix replies, "but I'm sure I would have noticed it by now."

"I've never seen my family's relic, Crusher," Annette admits, "it's my uncle's. But from his descriptions, I am pretty sure that it moves around."

Linhardt's eyes sparkle. "This is all so fascinating," he seems to gush, "weapons that align with crests, that somehow have the mind to turn those unworthy into beasts?"

Byleth shakes his head. "Interest is fine, but you all are not allowed to divulge anything that happened here today." He waits for them to all nod.

"Besides," Annette cuts in, a little mystified. "Don't you also have a crest, Linhardt? Does your family not have a hero's relic?"

He shrugs. "If we had one, it wouldn't really be ours. I'm sure that one exists, but I am also sure that it was buried with Saint Cethleann."

"I'm still a little confused," Dimitri says suddenly. "Why is it that hero's relics turn people into monsters? Is it only hero's relics?"

Sothis peers into Byleth's memories. "It's also due to those crest stones, but I'm not sure if we can say that. And the Sword of the Creator is even missing its stone! But how was the imperial army mass producing them? I'm sure you cannot go outside and dig up crest stones from the dirt. There must be some way that they were creating multiple beasts at a time..."

"I don't know," Byleth replies, confused himself. "Either way, it's not something we can look into right now."

"Why not?" Dimitri inquires.

Byleth only realizes then, that he said all of that aloud. "I was just thinking to myself..."

"About?" Ingrid prompts, eyes wide. All of the Blue Lions are leaning in.

"Nothing," Byleth replies, a little too fast. They wilt a little under his quick response. "Either way, it's getting late. Get some rest. If you have any other questions, you can tell me them in the morning."

"Yes..." The Blue Lions chorus, then leave the room.

Jeralt ruffles Byleth's hair when they leave. "Next time, kiddo, you gotta keep me in the loop. Next is Miklan, right? Be careful."

"I know," Byleth responds, small. "I'll try my best."

.

When Byleth returns to his room, Jeritza is standing in the middle of it. Immediately, Byleth draws his sword, and despite the fact that Sothis is unable to attack the man, she lifts her fists as if she were about to punch the life out of him.

"Get him!" Sothis shrieks, sounding a little too excited.

_Sothis._

"What? Ugh, you're so boring."

Jeritza doesn't even draw his rapier. "You saw, didn't you."

Byleth's lips straighten out into a thin line. Jeritza nods. Although Byleth wouldn't claim to know the man all that well, he seems uncharacteristically lost, as if presented with a great dilemma.

"Then why have you not told the Archbishop yet?" Jeritza asks, the inflection in his voice not giving anything away.

"It's not as if I am doing this for your sake," Byleth replies evenly.

"That girl..." Jeritza trails off, a little morose now. "I hardly even remember, and yet..."

Byleth flicks his wrist sharply, and the Sword of the Creator whips out, curling around Jeritza's torso and arms, bringing the man close enough so that Byleth can feel his breathing, so that the the two of them are eye level.

"I don't particularly care if you're with the Western Church or with Thales or whoever," Byleth murmurs, and doesn't miss the way that his eyes widen. "Don't involve the innocent with any of it, or any of my students. Got it?"

He motions for the sword to release Jeritza, and the man stumbles to the floor. "So you're not going to tell the Archbishop, are you."

"Again," Byleth says, whisper soft. "I'm not doing this for your sake. There's someone out there that thinks you're capable of good. Don't prove her wrong."

"I-" Jeritza begins to say, then shuts his mouth so hard that Byleth can practically hear the clatter. "I will not stop at this," he admits, and Byleth shrugs.

"I didn't think that you would," Byleth responds honestly. "I don't really know what your circumstances are, but... I can always spar with you. But you're not getting your mask back."

Byleth gestures at the door with his sword. "Leave, or we can fight now. Think about what I said, alright?"

Jeritza stands gracefully from the floor, brushing off imaginary dust. "We'll spar someday soon," Jeritza says, and then leaves, closing the door behind him.

Sothis immediately reaches up to tug at Byleth's hair. "You're an idiot!" Sothis hisses, yanking harder than usual. "Why didn't you kill him!? He was right there!"

"But Mercedes," Byleth replies softly, and Sothis ceases her pulling.

"Aargh!" Sothis shrieks, tugging at her own braids now. "Why did she have to say something like that! Why did someone so sweet have to be related to that- that man!"

"Did you hear what he said, Sothis?" Byleth asks.

"What."

"That he 'hardly even remembers.' What could that mean?" 

Sothis sighs, pulling at her dress now. "I don't know. You were reading about House Hyrm earlier, were you not? Didn't it say something about how the house now belonged to an adoptee?"

"Yeah," Byleth nods his head in approval. "And Jeritza uses the last name 'von Hyrm.' In our past life, Mercedes mentioned how House Bartels used her mother to create a child that would bear a crest, and how they had to leave that child behind when they ran away."

"That book also said that the members of House Bartels died under 'mysterious circumstances,'" Sothis replies, now a little mystified, "and that the deed went to Emile, but he disappeared."

"So what I was thinking," Byleth shares, "is that they did something to Emile and he killed them all. Or perhaps, some other individuals killed House Bartels and Emile left with them... and did something do them. And somehow, he ended up as Jeritza von Hyrm."

Sothis puts a hand to her chin, frowning. "Abandonment, even accidental, is traumatic at any age," she continues. "So essentially Mercedes and her mother fled, were unable to take Emile, unspeakable events occurred, and then House Bartels perished. And now Emile is under the guise of Jeritza, head of house Hyrm as an adoptee."

They both look at each other. "That's absolutely insane," Sothis murmurs, "does no one at the academy do a background check? I mean, look at you. They hired you, with no experience whatsoever!"

"But then again," Byleth adds on, "Solon worked here for many, many years, and no one caught on."

Both Byleth and Sothis sigh. "So what you're saying is that those years in between is probably what led Emile to become Jeritza, kill many of his family members, and become the Death Knight."

"We can't be sure yet," Byleth replies, "we'll need to talk with him to get the full story. I am pretty sure that it had something to do with Solon and Thales, however. In Remire village, the Death Knight worked with Solon, remember? That cannot be a coincidence. We also must think about the possibility that the books in the library are false, or deliberately glossing over the truth."

Sothis groans. "What in the world is happening," she demands, flinging herself onto the bed. "Why is it that even this is complicated..."

Byleth does not dispute the fact. Instead, he gets ready for bed.

.

Like in his last lifetime, Rhea and Seteth give him and the Blue Lions their next mission- to take down Miklan, who has stolen the Lance of Ruin from House Gautier.

When he announces this in class, Sylvain smiles at him, the grin warped around the edges, and excuses himself from the classroom. Ingrid, Dimitri, and Mercedes follow after him, their seats clattering. Felix seems as if he's about to stand, but only scowls and looks down at the desk. The rest of the class is staring at Felix.

Byleth dismisses class quickly after the announcement, and Felix is the first one out of his seat, cursing the entire way. The rest of them follow after, leaving in one large group. 

Instead of following, Byleth sighs, feeling utterly and totally worthless.

.

Later in the day, Dimitri approaches Byleth in the entrance hall. "So... We are to eradicate thieves in Kingdom territory. And... Miklan, Sylvain's older brother."

Dimitri shakes his head. "I'm sorry for dragging you into the Kingdom's petty squabbles. This should not be your burden to bear, but my own..."

It's Byleth's turn to shake his head. "I'm happy to help," Byleth replies honestly.

With that statement, Byleth is treated to one of Dimitri's earnest smiles. "Thank you, professor. Hearing you say that puts my mind at ease."

Byleth nods, and tries for a smile. It must not work, for Dimitri is now staring intensely at him, with that blush that seems to permanently rest upon his cheeks nowadays.

"I was wondering, professor..." Dimitri trails off, rubbing the back of his neck. He's looking at Byleth, but not directly at him, and everytime Byleth tries to catch his eyes the prince seems to flush. "Would you perhaps want to. See the town with me? Together? We could perhaps grab a bite to eat."

Byleth tries to catch his eyes properly. "That sounds lovely, Dimitri."

"Ah- I'm so honored, thank you," Dimitri replies, a little too quickly. The blush is a deep shade of red, now, and he's clasping his hands together and fiddling with his ring. "I'm looking forward to it."

"Yes," Byleth says, "it'll be nice to have an outing with all of the Blue Lions."

"With what."

"Your Highness?" Someone calls, appearing from behind Dimitri. It's Rodrigue, and the sight of him makes Byleth's chest clench. "Ah, it's been ages!"

One of Byleth's biggest regrets was not using a Divine Pulse to save Rodrigue, a regret that Byleth would carry with him for the rest of his life.

He would never forget the way Dimitri seemed to crumble as the man died before him, how Felix, despite all his claims to hate his father, would not talk to anyone for days after his death, not even his childhood friends. Sometimes, Byleth would see Sylvain or Ingrid or both, sitting in front of his door, waiting for him to come out.

Byleth was fond of the man, despite everything. Byleth knew about Glenn, and what Rodrigue had said to Felix, and how he seemed to favour Dimitri over his own son, but Byleth was still fond of him. His death laid heavily over his army for the rest of the war.

Dimitri's eyes widen. "It's been a long time! Two years, if I'm not mistaken."

"Indeed, your Highness!" Rodrigue grins. "You've grown so much in those years. I hardly recognize you."

Dimitri must notice Byleth's fidgeting, for he smiles at him and introduces Rodrigue to him. "This is Rodrigue, an old friend of my father's. I believe I've mentioned him, if you recall? When my father died four years ago, he looked after me as though I were his own son."

Rodrigue laughs, the sound bright and cheerful. "You flatter me, your Highness. It was my honour to care for such a fine, young man." He turns to Byleth with a little nod. "It's nice to finally meet you, professor. My son, Felix, has mentioned you on occasion."

"What brings you to the monastery, Rodrigue?" Dimitri asks, brighter than normal. "Is it the thieves plaguing the Kingdom?"

"I'm afraid so," Rodrigue answers, suddenly serious. "This is not merely a problem for House Gautier, but for everyone. The thieves have set up their headquarters in Fraldarius territory, and are mercilessly pillaging the villages of that area. You have our full support in stopping those dastards. I thank you for your help, both of you."

He trails off a little bit. "I also am here to inform the Archbishop that Cornelia will not be able to arrive until next month, due to some extenuating circumstances. She sends her regrets." 

"I don't trust that," Sothis whispers, hands on her hips. "I don't trust that at all."

Byleth nods. "I must be going. Professor Hanneman wants to see me." He nods again at both Dimitri and Rodrigue before walking away.

He can hear part of their conversation, still. "I heard that, by the way," Byleth hears Rodrigue say, his tone inexplicably teasing. "Your _professor?_ Really, Dimitri."

"Rodrigue!" Byleth can hear Dimitri exclaim, indignantly.

Professor Hanneman tells Byleth about his crest, which Byleth already knew about, and sends him on his way. Linhardt is waiting outside the door for him.

"Anything new?" Linhardt asks, impatient sounding. 

"No," Byleth replies, shaking his head. "Nothing that I didn't know already."

"You know," Linhardt begins, conversationally. "It's quite odd that you know more about your own crest compared to a crest scholar, especially since you grew up outside the influence of the church."

He's doing his best to prod, but Byleth won't let him. He shrugs. "Perhaps," Byleth replies, and leaves it like that.

Linhardt frowns when he doesn't answer properly, but does not press the answer.

.

On Manuela's birthday, Byleth invites her to tea and presents her with a mint blend that he knows that she prefers.

"Thank you so, so very much, professor," Manuela bats her eyes at him. "You really know how to treat a woman right. You even got the amount of sugar I put in right! I'm really flattered, truly."

Byleth takes a loud sip of tea instead of responding. 

"How unfortunate that this isn't a one on one date," she sighs, lifting the cup to her lips. "I wanted it to be just the two of us, but of course your students always follow you around like little ducklings."

She gestures with her free hand to the bushes where the Blue Lions are hiding.

"Do we really have to hide like this," Byleth can hear Linhardt hiss blandly, and then hears about five people shushing him. He sighs.

"If I graded them on stealth, they would all fail," Byleth states, which makes Manuela burst out into laughter. 

"Looks like you have another rival, your Highness," Byleth can hear Sylvain coo. What did that even mean?

Sylvain falls out of the bush two seconds later from a punch to the arm, and Manuela and Byleth politely pretend that it didn't happen.

"Ah, young love," Manuela sighs, taking a sip of tea. Byleth won't even pretend to understand Manuela or the Blue Lions.

.

Byleth's walking around the monastery when he sees Gilbert, meandering around the entrance hall.

It feels as if it's been ages since he's seen the man, and he looks exactly the same as he did five years into the future past, but for some reason, seeing him feels nostalgic.

"Hail, professor." Gilbert introduces himself with a short bow. "If I may introduce myself, I am Gilbert. My life has been spent as a dedicated knight. I am to accompany you on your assignment. I may have slowed a step in recent years, but I pledge to you the full extent of my abilities."

"Are you Annette's father?" Byleth asks, because he's never known subtlety or grace. 

Byleth watches the man stutter through his words before he leaves and locates Annette and tells her that a man that shares her hair colour is in the entrance hall.

Annette practically shoots out of her seat, yelling her thanks, and dashes out of the room.

Sothis and Byleth bump their fists together.

.

"Sylvain?" Byleth calls out, knocking on his door. He can hear mysterious thumping in the room, so he braces himself as he walks inside. "I would like to talk to you about-"

When Byleth walks into Sylvain's room, he's treated to the sight of Sylvain, sprawled across the floor, half on the bed and half not. Felix is quickly bringing his arms in, as if he had just pushed Sylvain off of the bed.

"Hello, professor," Sylvain drawls, raising a hand. He makes no effort to get up. 

Felix nods at him, not at all acknowledging Sylvain on the floor. "I am hiding from my old man," he announces, and Byleth decides not to say anything about it.

"Okay," Byleth replies, closing the door behind him. "Actually, I am here to talk about Miklan, if that's alright."

Sylvain and Felix share a look, although Felix scowls as he catches himself. Sylvain sits up, frowning and rubbing the back of his head.

"You're not about to start pitying me, are you?" Sylvain asks. It sounds light and carefree, but Byleth doesn't let his guard down. "Because really, professor, I am so sorry that I had to bother you with that trash in the first place. Really, Miklan's just a brat, and like always, other have to pay for it."

Byleth won't beat around the bush. He refuses to disrespect Sylvain like that. "Rhea asked us to kill the bandits, as well as your brother. I'm asking if you want us to spare him."

Sylvain scoffs, and glares at Byleth, although it might be unconscious. "What brought this on?"

"We spared Lord Lonato," Byleth says simply. 

"Yeah, but we spared him because Ashe loves his father. And trust me, there's no love lost between my brother and I. Do whatever you want, kill him, arrest him, I seriously don't care."

Byleth nods. "If that's what you really want," Byleth replies evenly. "Then we can kill Miklan. But it's not too late to change your mind about it. And, another thing... Your brother stole the hero's relic, correct?"

Sylvain nods, solemn.

"He may turn into a beast as well," Byleth says.

"I thought we weren't talking about that?" Sylvain jokes, trying to lighten the mood. "He can burn for all I care. Seriously, professor, your worry is wasted on me. Trust me."

"I will worry nonetheless," Byleth responds, and offers his hand to Sylvain. He takes it, and allows himself to be pulled upright. "You are certainly worthy of care and compassion, Sylvain."

Releasing his hand, he nods at Sylvain, and then Felix, who turns his head as soon as he realizes that Byleth is looking at him. "Sorry for ruining the mood," Byleth announces, and leaves while Felix is sputtering.

.

Byleth walks into class, fanning himself lazily with a few papers, and walks up to his desk. "Hello, everyone. Good morning."

A few cheery greetings ring out, and Byleth spreads the papers out onto the table. "Today, we will- uh. Hello."

When Byleth looks up from his papers, he sees two people that don't belong to the Blue Lions stare back at him. 

"Please, continue!" Lysithea says, tapping her quill against her cheek. 

"Uh," Byleth repeats intelligently. "Hello, Lysithea. What. What are you doing here?"

Byleth was quite fond of the girl, because in his past life, she was a part of the Blue Lions. But that didn't exactly explain what the girl was doing here.

"I hate losing," Lysithea explains with a huff. "I absolutely cannot believe that that lazy oaf Linhardt beat me! I have never even seen him train! Therefore, I was curious about your teaching skills, because it certainly wasn't his own efforts, and so I am here. On a test period of sorts. I'll give it a month and see if you impress me or not."

"Okay," Byleth replies, still a little lost. He watches Lysithea glare at Linhardt, totally unaware of her ire as he dozes on. "And what about you, Ferdinand?"

"Me?" Ferdinand exclaims, looking shocked that he was even addressed. "I must admit that I am a bit curious about your teaching skills as well. Did you know that the first time I've ever seen Linhardt train was when he was running away from me? And yet, he actually took the effort to approach you himself! Needless to say, I was absolutely surprised. So I am here now, also on a trial period."

"Uh," Byleth says. "Okay. Welcome, I suppose. For this month, or longer if you decide to stay, you are a part of the Blue Lions."

The Blue Lions, excitable as ever, burst into cheers that wake Linhardt, the source of all this, from his nap. Confused, he turns to Dimitri. "What are they doing here?" He asks the prince, tilting his head to the side.

Sothis groans into her hands. "Why are there more of them?!"

.

Byleth collapses onto his bed, weary from the day. After Ferdinand and Lysithea had inexplicably joined his class, he had to rearrange his entire training plan to include them, so he was rather exhausted. Despite all this, however, he was unable to fall asleep, so Sothis deigned to tell him some stories.

It somehow delved into serious conversation.

_I think that it's rather cool._

"...Cool?" Sothis' nose scrunches up. "You think that the fact that I can wipe your existence from this mortal coil and take your body as my own is cool?! It's not the slightest bit daunting to you, that I could rip the control of your body from your grasp and make you into an entirely new person? That I could quite literally kill you, right now. As we speak. Is that cool?!"

Byleth hums, a little perplexed as to why Sothis seems upset. _Yeah. Besides, I trust you._

Her lip wobbles dangerously. "Well then. I see," Sothis murmurs, and Byleth is polite enough not to comment on her voice cracking in the middle of the words. "You know, I trust you too."

_Then show it once in awhile,_ Byleth teases back. He gets a gentle flick to the forehead. _Ow._

"Sleep now," Sothis murmurs, softer than ever. Her fingers drift across his forehead, brush green hair from his eyes. "Your hair is getting longer. Do you think it'll grow out like mine?"

_It would be hard to maintain._

"I think you'd cut a nice figure, even if you would let it become dreadfully shaggy," Sothis says, whisper soft. She tugs ever so gently on the strands. "Rest. Let the flames die for a moment, Byleth."

What can else can Byleth do but comply?

.

It's Byleth, but not Byleth. 

It's his body, but not his body.

He's moving, he's breathing, he's existing, but everything is condensed behind a light fog. Not enough to disorient him. Just enough to make him aware that he has no control.

It's very strange.

Byleth remembers that Sothis told him that she could take control at anytime, so he relaxes. He trusts her. Perhaps she just wanted to experience fishing or something.

_Sothis?_

_Sothis, is this you? You should warn me beforehand._

No answer.

_Sothis? Can you not hear me?_

His body is walking up a set of stairs, footsteps too soft to be human. His head feels as if it's been layered with a soft cloud. Byleth realizes that he's being escorted to his father's room, and stiffens slightly.

Byleth can feel his hand raise to knock at the door, three sharp raps, but he had no control over that either.

No answer.

Byleth's mouth sighs. Six sharp raps.

"Yeah, yeah," Jeralt's voice calls from inside. "Yeah, I'm coming, no need to keep knocking."

Jeralt pulls open the door, looking disheveled and extremely tired. Byleth feels really terrible. Byleth had no intention of hurting his father whatsoever, and the fact that he had even hurt him inadvertently like this was practically criminal.

"Byleth?" His father asks, sounding quizzical. "What are you doing up at this hour?"

"Jeralt Eisner," Sothis says, and Byleth knows that it's Sothis. No one else possessed that accent.

"...You're not Byleth," Jeralt says, and for some reason, that makes Byleth's chest flood with warmth. 

He can feel the hum of approval. "My, you are so intelligent. Tell me, dearest Blade Breaker, you know who I am, correct?"

Jeralt's eyes narrow, before gesturing Sothis to come in. She crosses the threshold dutifully, and closes the door silently behind her, making sure to fasten the lock.

"Is Byleth okay? ...Sothis."

"Full marks," Sothis replies, and Byleth can feel her own fondness alongside his own. "He is currently fast asleep. Do not worry. He's been really tired as of late."

His father snorts. "Kid needs the rest," Jeralt scolds, sounding fond.

Jeralt huffs, and moves to sit on the couch. Without asking, Sothis sits across from him. "Can he hear us right now?"

"No," Sothis replies. "I made sure of it."

Huh.

Then how could Byleth...?

"I suppose you came here for a reason," Jeralt states, sinking into the seat. "Especially with that expression. Go on, then."

Sothis huffs. "I came to tell you about my goal, and my goal alone. I would like an accomplice in my endeavors. Byleth must never know."

"Is this about the body in the Holy Tomb?" Jeralt demands, sounding quite suspicious. "Or something else entirely? Because I'll be honest, I know nothing of time related shenanigans."

"Full marks again the first time," Sothis replies, and Byleth can feel their lips turn up. "I plan to make it my own. That is, the body."

Byleth blanks out.

Jeralt's face hardens, expression stormy. "How would that even work? How is that even possible? Will you be alright? Will Byleth be alright?"

Sothis smiles, and it's not pretty. Even unable to see it, Byleth knows.

"I don't know. I am a goddess, though. I will find a way to make it work."

"Then why-" Jeralt clears his throat. "I don't really understand your relationship with my son, not fully, but I don't think you would actively seek to-"

"I have a reason," Sothis replies, and her fists clench into Byleth's clothes. "There's something that I wish to accomplish, and I cannot use Byleth for these goals. He's far too compassionate, far too caring. During the war, he couldn't bear to cut his own students down. He would beg them to retreat, even if they were not technically his students in the first place. Towards the end of the war, he thought himself a sword, a weapon instead of a mortal. He even had compassion for that warmongering stain on humanity. He still does. That's why I cannot burden him with this."

His father sits up, attentive now. "What is it?"

"It's alright if he hates me for it," Sothis continues, and Byleth can feel her apprehension like a snake slithering down his spine. "I would rather he despise me than become hurt."

His father's brows furrow. "Hey... Wait, you're not suggesting..."

"That's why I will do it for him," Sothis announces, drumming her fingers on their shared thigh. "I will kill Edelgard and if needed, Rhea."

.

The next morning Byleth is awake before Sothis. He's sitting cross legged on the bed, staring up into the ceiling.

Sothis stirs, out of his body and curled up onto the bed. As if last night never happened. She rubs at one eye, yawns loudly, and turns to Byleth. Sothis searches something in his gaze, in his memories, and her nose scrunches up slightly. "...I suppose you heard all of last night."

"Yes."

"And you have some things that you would like to say to me." Rather than sounding resigned, she sounds... Excited.

Byleth breathes deeply, in and out. "Yes, Sothis. Let's talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....dun dun dun 
> 
> finally, byleth and sothis will be having a proper conversation! im so excited for this guys, you dont even know. i actually wrote part of the next chapter as i was writing the first one, so it's been a long time coming. hell fucking yes
> 
> so the emile lore is dropping! holy shit the dlc better drop soon or ill fuck everything up lol. im literally only using the empire nobles book in the library and his meager dialogue to write that entire ass part im trying my best okay like AAAAAAAAA i cannot wait to actually love jeritza gosh he better be available on the bl route i swear to fuckin god
> 
> thank you so much for reading! ♡
> 
> byleth/dimitri C+ rank  
byleth/dedue C+ rank  
byleth/felix C+ rank  
byleth/annette C+ rank  
byleth/ingrid C+ rank  
byleth/sylvain C+ rank  
byleth/mercedes C+ rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt C+ rank
> 
> byleth/caspar C rank  
byleth/flayn C rank  
byleth/ferdinand ??? rank  
byleth/lysithea ??? rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/claude C rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea C rank


	12. venerable one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! phew im glad that im done this chapter this was a fucking doozy for lore and such im hhhhhh
> 
> a question i get a lot, but not worded at all like this: why is byleth such a fucking idiot? good question! part of it has to do with how i like to write my characters. another part has to do with my own personal hc about byleth- he's obvs not good at all with emotion and doesn't even know that he's really lacking emotion until he gets to the academy and is promptly quote unquote dyed in all the colours of his students, which have a great big fat fucking influence on his character. of course this boy doesn't know what social cues are! god forbid he know shit about feelings too! 
> 
> but he will learn. ;) promise
> 
> IMPORTANT NOTICE: i mentioned before that i wanted to cover all things about the game. therefore, sooner or later, this fic will have all route spoilers, so do be careful! 
> 
> thank u all for your constant support! love u

It feels as if Byleth and Sothis are seated perilously across from one another on a set of scales, and one wrong word could tip the already fragile balance they share and send them careening over the edge into a pit of misunderstandings.

"You start," Byleth offers, waving an awkward hand in her general direction.

"No, you," Sothis insists. "You were the one who wanted to bring up this entire discussion in the first place, remember?"

Byleth shakes his head. "I wouldn't know where to begin..."

Sothis yawns, stretching out her limbs and luxuriating in the morning's sweet silence, as if the result of this conversation had no real effect on her whatsoever. "Then I suppose that we're at an impasse."

"No," Byleth replies, clenching his fists into the bedsheets. "No, you're going to start, Sothis."

"Why?"

"Because I cannot read your mind, Sothis," Byleth says, far more impatient than he's used to being. He cannot recall ever feeling impatient in his life. "Although you know everything about me, and although you insist that we are one, I am hardly privy to the inner working of your mind. Please share your thoughts with me, Sothis!"

"Okay," Sothis allows, swinging her feet off of the bed and kicking them lazily into the air. "I want to use the body in the Holy Tomb as my own and kill Edelgard. Perhaps Rhea too. There. Satisfied?"

"No," Byleth says. 

"No?" Sothis mocks, hand curling into fists at her sides. "I must say, Byleth, that I have really no idea how you've managed to talk your way out of battle when you're this obtuse and inelegant."

He shakes his head. "Insulting me won't diffuse the situation. We must talk about this, Sothis."

"I've already said what must be said." Sothis says, voice hard. 

"Then-" Byleth stops himself, coming up at the end of a chain which halts any sort of thought. "Then convince me of it."

Sothis turns to look at him, brows raised. "Convince you of what?"

It's as if the rattling balance they're sharing has stilled, if only for a moment. "Convince me that Edelgard must die," Byleth announces, then swallows tastes like blood coating his tongue, "and if you succeed, I'll kill her myself."

Sothis' eyes shine in a way that seems more childlike than blood thirsty. She searches his gaze, his thoughts, and when she finds nothing but determination her smile seems to brighten even more somehow, as if like the sun. "Excellent."

Byleth raises a hand. "I am not finished. I'll also try my best to convince you otherwise."

"Hah!" Sothis scoffs, swinging her legs back onto the bed and kicking at his shins, "good luck with that, Byleth."

Sothis straightens her posture, gathers her hands into her lap, and smiles so sweetly Byleth can practically see honey drip from her mouth.

"Edelgard killed you," she begins, and before Byleth can even retort to that, she barges on forth with the arrogance and confidence only one possessing power could possibly hope to achieve in her tone and in the slant of her mouth. "And you're not the only one who has died by her hand. How many lives have been sacrificed in the pursuit of her war?"

When Byleth says nothing, only inclining his head as an invitation for her to continue, she closes her eyes.

"Mind you, you've made me absolutely awful. This is such a terrible way to say it, but you've made me- more human, I suppose. I must confess that I do not remember ever being divine, but I am not going to pretend like this isn't at least partly personal. I felt it, you know. When you died? It was if a part of me was there- and then gone. You did not leave me slowly. The lives of mortals are so fleeting, so quick to burn out, like a candle desperately trying to keep alight despite a raging storm. I never imagined that you would leave me the same way."

"I have always been with you, even when you thought I had left. I have been watching over you all this time." Sothis continues, looking down into her lap. "I cannot remember a time without. And then... you were gone. Just like that! No goodbyes, no chance to heal you, you were simply gone. Like you never existed. You had no Divine Pulses, so I tried my best with what little power I could scrounge up, but..."

Sothis stares up at the ceiling, as if it would provide answers. "So I must say that it's at least somewhat personal."

"But then again..."

Sothis waves a hand, and Byleth hits the sheets, the world going dark.

"...I have many more reasons."

Byleth sits up in the Holy Tomb and shoots Sothis an incredulous stare. "Did you knock me out?"

"What a crude way of putting it," Sothis allows, "but I did indeed put you to sleep. This way we can both experience your memories once more."

Sothis waves a hand and they're sitting on a tomb, watching Dimitri- _Dima,_ cackle maniacally, as if possessed by not only his own haunted thoughts but the spirits that clung to him in their wake. 

"_**Is this some kind of twisted joke?!**_" Dima bellows, and Byleth's chest aches.

"...Are you really going to use Dima against me?" Byleth asks, almost a whisper.

"This is important," Sothis replies, but at least has the decency to sound apologetic. "Remember this, Byleth. Edelgard is the Flame Emperor. In order to commit such terrible crimes, such as the Remire village tragedy, she donned a mask as to not implicate the Empire when she committed them. Pathetic."

"But..." The Tomb around them ripples, and they're now standing in the burnt wreckage of Remire, watching the Flame Emperor approach both Byleth and Jeralt. "She said here that she had nothing to do with this one, at least."

Sothis shakes her head. "Even if that were the case, she still did nothing to stop it. I'm assuming that she was still watching, and yet despite her words, did not step in. And are you really trusting her words despite knowing the truth of it all?"

"But we don't know everything either," Byleth says, and winces when Sothis shoots him a glare. "It's true. No one really knows anything about the truth. Edelgard is acting against the church because she believes that it's evil, and that is her truth."

"Hah!" Sothis laughs, pointing a daring finger at him. "No matter what her truth is, she too doesn't know every single part of it! It's not as if she's totally privy to every single thing that the church does! And you, Byleth, honestly! It doesn't matter what her truth or justice is. Our truth is that we have lived through a future in which Edelgard has caused a war where she has seized Fódlan in the bloodiest possible way!"

Byleth swallows. "I just want to know why she's so... dissatisfied with the church, and why she feels as if she must take all of Fódlan under her control to achieve her goals."

Sothis rolls her eyes. "Well, that's easy." She snaps her fingers and Byleth and Sothis are standing in the Audience Hall with Rhea, and a past Byleth. Seteth runs into the room, out of breath, and tells them that Edelgard, alongside the Empire, has declared war on the church. He recites her speech from a letter- likely sent out all throughout Fódlan.

"The leaders of the church have misused its creeds to fulfill their true desire- to rule the world," Seteth reads, hands shaky. "They have fooled the people of Fódlan."

Sothis is choking on her own laughter. "But doesn't Edelgard herself want to rule the world? Why else would she spread the Empire all throughout the continent?"

"Shh," Byleth scolds, trying to follow along.

"Long ago, they divided the Empire to create a Kingdom and then... divided that Kingdom to create an Alliance. They did all this to make the masses bicker amongst themselves. They caused instability in order to reinforce their own authority."

This statement makes Byleth puzzled. Was that really how it happened? Byleth would have to figure it out himself.

"Didn't the Kingdom itself wish for independence? Byleth, we must read up on this." Sothis says, a little confused.

Seteth continues to read on. "They did all of this to make the masses bicker amongst themselves. They caused instability in order to reinforce their own authority. They gathered gold and lived in extravagance. How? By praying on the devotion of those who wished for the goddess' salvation."

"Eh?" Sothis says. "Extravagance?"

"Those corrupt hypocrites cannot lead Fódlan to true peace. Their foul belief system must be torn asunder so that true wisdom may finally prevail! And so, I have decided... By order of the Adrestian Emperor, Edelgard von Hresvelg... The Empire hereby declares war on the church of Seiros!"

Sothis claps her hands together. "Alright then. Let's recap. Edelgard believes that the church is evil, and corrupt, and using the money of their believers in order to reinforce their extravagance. That the instability of Fódlan is due to one single institution, and not the combined institutions and beliefs of many. Therefore, declaring war on the Church and anyone who defends it, as well getting rid of the Kingdom and Alliance and imposing the Empire upon everyone will result in everlasting peace as well as a well-founded country. Am I getting this right?"

Byleth doesn't say anything, so Sothis seems to take this as incentive to continue. "A country allied under one flag may sound nice at first," Sothis admits, "but it usually results in such things such as the death of diversity, belief, and so on and so forth, and it really ignores the pain and bloodshed caused in order to be 'united,' as well as the suffering and the bitterness of the subdued. Rather than being for the collective whole as well as the people, it's more so for the leader and the groups who has put such a thing in place. Unifying a continent is difficult because there are already set religions and beliefs in place, depending on where one lives. It's not that simple. As long as there is war, there will be opposing sides. Snuffing out the biggest flame does not mean that there will not exist a spark. Long live the Empire, death to nationality." Sothis mocks.

"I'm guessing that Edelgard believes that this is the right thing to do for her ideals, and that she doesn't doubt herself even when blood has to be spilled in order to achieve said goals." Sothis continues, rolling her eyes.

Byleth tries to speak up. "I'm sure that she must have moments of doubt, and that she must feel terrible-"

"Feeling terrible does not mean that Edelgard will stop killing," Sothis retorts, but it's more withdrawn than chiding. "Feeling terrible cannot undo years of war."

Byleth closes his eyes. "She still has not committed such crimes, Sothis."

"Byleth, Byleth, Byleth." Sothis shakes her head. "For some reason you now believe that the best way to subdue a snake is to coddle it. I liked it best when we were of same mind. You should know by now, the best way to subdue a snake is to cut off its head."

Sothis snaps her fingers, and they're back in the Holy Tomb. She seats herself upon the throne, and settles in, making herself comfortable. "Besides," Sothis maintains, "who knows what crimes she's committed as the Flame Emperor. She's already put her plan into motion. We should as well."

"Will you not listen to me?"

"Will you continue to defend her despite everything?"

"I am aware that Edelgard has done unspeakable things," Byleth agrees, "and although I don't want to kill her, this isn't because I am not angry at her or anything. I am angry. My students were forced to join a war. People were conquered, and killed, and trampled. People would climb the gates of the monastery to be provided food and shelter. There were more orphans than families. More people walking onto a battlefield than walking off. I thought that I was used to it, when I was a mercenary. I was wrong."

Byleth closes his eyes. "You also forget that Edelgard is the Adrestian Empire's only princess. Her death alone is enough to start a war. It's not just that Edelgard is dangerous. If she's able to command thousands of soldiers and demonic beasts for an army, she must have backers. People in the Empire, as well as people well versed in the crest's powers. She is not the only one in want of a revolution."

"Didn't Edelgard say herself that the Adrestian Empire seemed to fall in power in recent years?" Sothis asks, and conjures up a memory from his past life, from when Byleth had saved her from Kostas' axe. 

Edelgard is smiling at Byleth in this memory, although it's subdued. "...Though the Empire has fallen from its former glory, the other regions are merely offshoots that pale in comparison."

The memory fades, and they're back in the Holy Tomb.

"It doesn't make any sense," Byleth says, almost to himself. "Edelgard says all that, but then as soon as she takes the throne, she reverts the power entirely and marches to the church, armies at her back. Rather than the Empire not having power, it might be that they have been saving power for this very moment. She's been planning this for likely years, sure, but... Whatever her reasons for this war, Rhea or otherwise, feeling bad for starting a war does not refute the fact that she still started a war."

"You are aware of all of this," Sothis begins, and her voice is becoming a little more dangerous, "and you still do not wish to kill her?"

"Don't misunderstand me, Sothis," Byleth responds, and he sounds a little hollow. "I will do whatever I can to reach for her hand. The best possible scenario is to avoid this war even starting in the first place. That means we have to look at this from every angle. It's not as if only Edelgard desires a revolution, a war. I want to prevent as much bloodshed as I can. But if Edelgard's death is the only way..."

A ripple of happiness rushes through his veins. "Sothis. You shouldn't be happy about this. It's not right, to wish for someone's head."

"It seems as if I am being blatantly marched into a point," Sothis retorts, twirling a strand of hair around a delicate finger. "One that I will do my very best to very obviously and shamelessly avoid."

Byleth parts his lips, frustrated with both Sothis and himself. He's never been one for transparent emotion, but he can feel it- Sothis trickling down her own frustration and stubbornness down his spine and into his throat, heavy and ultimately dangerous. He wonders how much emotion can be poured into one person until they shatter into a million pieces and nothing remains of them.

"You had told your students once that blood does not wash away blood," Sothis reminds, "but it does make me feel better."

Byleth sighs. He understands dismissal when he hears it, and he's not finished discussing Edelgard, but he yields anyway. "Well then. What about Rhea?"

"I don't trust her."

This makes Byleth's brows raise. "That means that we should kill her?"

Sothis shrugs her shoulders lazily. "No. I am saying that if it is needed, I shall kill her. You cannot possibly think that she is completely and utterly trustworthy. Not only is she privy to the secret behind the demonic beasts, she hired you for reasons still yet unknown, and your father had to stage a grand fire in order for him to escape with you. Does that not ooze suspicion?"

"...I respect Rhea," Byleth replies. "Although I cannot say that I trust her, nor can I say that I understand her, she still defended the monastery when Edelgard invaded, and she seems to care about the students-"

"It's always those students of yours with you- Wait. That's right. Rhea transformed into a dragon when she defended the monastery, did she not?"

"Can I turn into a dragon?" Byleth asks, genuinely excited at the idea despite his still-bland tone.

Sothis pinches his cheek. "That's not the point!"

"Ow."

"I hope it genuinely hurt," Sothis mutters, but relaxes. "It's no wonder that she likely knows where all of these experiments and beasts are coming from if she can turn into a dragon herself."

"But the beast transformation isn't voluntary," Byleth responds, and conjures up the memory of Rhea smiling at him, before transforming into a grand dragon. "I think that Rhea can choose to transform, and that she's still fully conscious of her actions. She defended me, after all."

"That means nothing," Sothis spits. "You forget that she's definitely using you for something."

"When am I not being used?" Byleth asks, genuinely curious.

"What do you mean?"

"Let's say I joined Edelgard," Byleth offers, and Sothis seems to shudder at the thought. "I would definitely aid her to spread the Empire's influence all throughout Fódlan."

Sothis snorts. "Definitely in your past life, with your reckless compassion and devotion, as well as the fact that you're easily influenced. What a horrific thought."

"And since I am allied with Dima," Byleth continues, "of course I would fight to defend the Kingdom. And if I joined the Golden Deer, I would fight alongside Claude."

"So what you're saying is," Sothis says slowly, following along, "you believe yourself some sort of pawn that very well may change the tide of the war."

"It sounds rather arrogant when you say it like that," Byleth declares, slightly embarrassed. "Not really. I have no idea what my life would be like had I chosen the other houses. I was actually thinking that perhaps Edelgard would not have waged her war."

At this statement, Sothis shakes her head. "Definitely not. With her resolve and her planning? No way. And besides, I find myself agreeing with you the more that I think about it. You have the power of a goddess, the power of time itself. Of course you would be able to influence the world."

"Daunting," Byleth responds, solemn. "Anything else about Rhea that you would like to mention?"

"No," Sothis says, a little too quickly.

"Sothis."

"Fine!" Sothis declares, folding her arms across her chest. "I was thinking that Rhea is quite possibly the biggest target, and a really grand influence on the war."

"Isn't that quite clear by now-"

"No, Byleth," Sothis shakes her head. "Not like that. I'm sure that Rhea has some sort of important background, due to her resemblance to that one woman in your dreams."

When Byleth doesn't respond right away, Sothis rolls her eyes and snaps her fingers, and they're standing in the battlefield within Byleth's dreams. "This woman," Sothis gestures at her. 

Byleth remembers her from his dreams. A tall woman, clothed in all white, with flowers in her hair. Long green locks, bright green eyes, staring down a buff looking man with an intense glare.

"She doesn't just look like this woman," Byleth says, voice incredulous. "Everything about them looks exactly the same!"

"That's..." Sothis trails off. "Don't tell me that they're the same person."

"What are you talking about, Sothis?"

Sothis is making grand hand gestures, her movements wild and excited. "Okay, if your dreams are seriously the real thing," Sothis begins, everything about her screaming exhilaration, "that woman calls that buff looking man Nemesis! Which means... Which means this is Seiros."

"What exactly does that mean?"

Sothis tugs sharply at one of Byleth's ears. "It means that Rhea is Saint Seiros, dummy!"

Byleth gasps. "That's impossible. The fight between Nemesis and Seiros happened so long ago! It's impossible that anyone is able to live this long!"

"That's only if the stories are true," Sothis chides, practically bouncing up and down with excitement. "Besides, wasn't Seiros a child of the goddess or a messenger of the goddess or whatever? It's not completely absurd that someone possessing such power would be able to live that long."

"It is absurd, Sothis!" Byleth exclaims, feeling as if a hole had opened up beneath his feet. He never raises his voice, but such a claim is nearly unbelievable. "There's no proof that these dreams are even the real deal, anyway!"

"Ugh," Sothis groans, hand over her eyes. "You killjoy. You're right, though. In this battle, Nemesis and the Elites are fighting together, although it said in the myths that Seiros and the Elites fought to take Nemesis and his army down."

"That's only if they're telling the truth," Byleth admits, curling up into himself a little.

"So either these dreams are the real deal, and Seiros is Rhea, alongside the fact that the church is for some reason censoring the truth about the battle," Sothis begins, head resting on her hands, "or these dreams are completely false."

Sothis seems to deflate at her own words, which even makes Byleth wilt a little bit. "Maybe we should come back to this one," Byleth suggests helpfully. "Rather than make baseless claims, we should find a way to research if this is true. I'll talk to my father to see if he can figure something out as well."

"It'll be difficult if the church is really censoring the truth of that battle," Sothis murmurs, "but alright."

Byleth waits a few beats before bringing the next subject up. "What about the body?"

"The body?"

"The body in the Holy Tomb," Byleth clarifies, wringing his hands a little. "The body that you said that you wanted to make your own."

"Yes, that!" Sothis exclaims, sounding bright and cheerful. "I want a body that's not yours!"

"Sothis..." Byleth trails off, slightly worried. "That body may be someone else's body. It is a Tomb, after all."

Sothis rolls her eyes and places her hands on her hips. "They should be honored then, that a goddess should deign to take over their body."

"Sothis."

"Okay, okay, I get it," Sothis complains, staring up into the ceiling. "I am working entirely off of the idea that that body is just one of Rhea's experiments, an unused, soulless body. So it should be alright. If I am sharing a consciousness with anyone, or taking over a body that belonged to someone else prior, I am quite sure that I would realize it."

Byleth blinks, slow and hard. "Why do you want a body? Besides, of course, the fact that you want to kill Edelgard."

Sothis looks at him, one of those piercing, soul searching gazes that never fail to make Byleth aware that he is sharing his body with divinity. "You and I both know that we cannot coexist like this forever," Sothis murmurs, and gestures him closer with one hand.

He moves towards the throne, and kneels so that they're eye level. Sothis places one hand on his cheek. "I want you to live a full life," Sothis soothes him. Her hand is pleasantly cool. "A life ripe with emotion, with passionate love, without the threat of war or the burden of literal divinity. That is my only wish, Byleth. I do not wish to disappear, and I do not want to separate myself from you entirely. We are family. I hope to build a peace for you that is everlasting. So I cannot use you, or speak through you. This must be done with my own hands."

"I will help you," Byleth declares, and Sothis chuckles.

"I really did think that you would say that," Sothis says, and her voice oozes fondness. "But there is no need to bloody your hands any further than necessary. Help me take that body, Byleth. I have an idea about how I can possess it."

"Rhea will notice that it's gone," Byleth reminds. 

"I'm counting on that," Sothis chuckles. "Before we plan anything out, we must focus on Miklan first."

Sothis pats his cheek gently.

"I said that I would kill Edelgard if need be," Byleth states, low. "But I will not stop looking for a more peaceful method."

"I did not think that you would," Sothis replies, almost lazy in her candor.

.

"Father," Byleth gasps, hurrying towards Jeralt's table, where he was sharing a meal with some of the mercenaries as well as Alois, "would you help me hide a body?"

"Yeah," Jeralt replies, not missing a beat. "Of course."

Alois drops his cutlery loudly onto his plate, coughing loudly.

"We would too!" The mercenaries call out, whooping out jovial, excited cries. "Just say the word, Byleth, and you got it."

"I'm sure that this is somewhat wholesome to all of you," Alois begins, pretending like he didn't just almost choke on his meal, "but I really do hope that there isn't really a body that needs to be hidden."

Byleth gives him one of his famous blank stares. "Of course," he lies. He grabs his own meal and joins them at the table, listening in onto their conversations without actually joining any of them.

"Are we going to steal the body from the Holy Tomb?" Sothis asks, taking a seat next to him on the bench. Byleth takes another spoonful of the spicy fish before he answers. 

_No. At least, not yet._

Sothis frowns, her chin wrinkling. "And why is that? But then again, I cannot think of a place we can hide it."

Another bite. _Linhardt might find out._

"UGHHHHHHH." Sothis groans, and it's a miracle that no one is able to hear her.

.

Byleth escorts the Blue Lions into the training grounds and nearly trips when he sees Jeritza in the middle of the field, polishing a rapier.

"What is _he_ doing here?!" Sothis demands. "I thought he would have left by now! It seems as though we must still yet keep a closer eye on him..."

_He didn't explicitly say that he would be leaving the academy,_ Byleth thinks back, but his gaze still wanders over to Mercedes, who is shaking slightly.

"Hello, professor Jeritza," Byleth greets. He casually steps in front of Mercedes, as if to block her from sight. "My class was scheduled for the training grounds today."

Jeritza does not answer right away. He merely gazes at Byleth, as if he could see through him to peer at Mercedes.

The Blue Lions gather together in one clump, all standing in front of Mercedes. Felix practically has his sword unsheathed already, his grip white-knuckled upon the hilt.

Byleth doesn't say a word, but the Sword of the Creator curls lazily around Byleth's right hand, as if inviting Byleth to wield him.

Ferdinand and Lysithea, who are only now aware of the tension, look between Jeritza and the Blue Lions with obvious discomfort. 

The silence is choking. It's as if someone's squeezed all of the air out of the arena. 

"Who will yield first?" Sothis murmurs, a little whisper breathed over the shell of Byleth's ear.

Mercedes places a hand on Byleth's back, between his shoulder blades, and he forces himself to relax.

She steps out around from the students and Byleth's misshapen shelter, straightens her shoulders, and tips her chin up, daring, bold. The shadows seem to part for her. It's as if she glows under the searing light of a noontime sun.

"Emile," Mercedes greets. 

"Mercedes," Jeritza replies, one half-beat later. Byleth is surprised that he doesn't correct her, doesn't tell her to call him Jeritza. With his accent, and his emphasis on vowels, her name is bitter upon his tongue.

"My class is here to train," Mercedes states, her hands straight at her sides. "Will you spar with us?"

"We may spar together," Byleth offers, when he doesn't answer right away. "If you're amenable, of course."

The pair of siblings don't even look at him.

"I am amenable," Jeritza replies.

The Blue Lions seem to sigh out the frigid tension.

"What in the world has just happened?" Lysithea demands, and Annette smiles at her, almost dismissive, still kind.

The Sword of the Creator flies into Byleth's hand at the mere mention of battle. 

"No," Byleth tells it, and despite the odd looks he receives, he knows better than to dismiss the odd behavior of a Hero's Relic. "Not now. We cannot show you off to him."

As if pouting or perhaps grumpy, the Sword of the Creator reattaches itself to Byleth's waist.

"Can it actually understand you?" Sylvain demands, and he sounds so incredibly surprised, that Byleth decides to answer at least this.

"Rather than it understanding my words," Byleth replies, "I think it understands my feelings."

Jeritza nods as if those words made any sense to him at all. "Shall we?"

The Blue Lions settle on the benches, incredibly tense. Dimitri in particular, Byleth worries over, for he's gripped the wood so hard it's splintered slightly. Mercedes heals the scratches caused by the bits of wood in his hands.

Byleth picks out a steel sword from the rack, lighter than its brethren. Jeritza draws his rapier, and it sings as he lowers it in front of his face. They face each other.

"F-first to land a neat blow wins," Ashe declares nervously. He doesn't blame his students. Mercedes, out of the watchful eye of her brother, has her arms wrapped around her torso as if to physically hold herself together.

Byleth decides to make this quick.

"Begin!"

Jeritza is strong, and fast, and fights with the sort of fury that declares him unmatched by his usual peers. But Byleth is not a common swordsman. The mercenaries had always joked that Byleth had learned to swing a sword around far before he had said his first word, much to the chagrin of his father.

Parry, overhead swing. The swell of sword-song. The screech of metal is music to Byleth's ears, and he dances alongside it.

He's never seen the Death Knight battle on foot. As infantry, he loses the sort of finesse usually granted by one accustomed to swinging their weapon around wildly. The rapier is such an odd weapon for him to use, if Byleth's being completely honest. The scythe was cumbersome, and looked heavy, while the rapier seemed to bend over on itself during huge gusts of wind.

Byleth will not allow himself to underestimate Jeritza, despite this.

Jeritza swings an arc so deadly that, if had connected, would have severed clean through any sort of limb. Byleth can see it now, flashing before his eyes, and that's when he decides to end the match.

Byleth steps into Jeritza's personal space and in one swift move of the sword, jabs the hilt of his sword into the softness of his torso and swings upwards, knocking the rapier briefly from Jeritza's grasp. 

The crescendo of music dies when Byleth points the tip of his sword delicately under Jeritza's chin.

They're practically nose to nose.

Frozen, Jeritza does not move away, despite the slight pinprick of blood that emerges from underneath the point. "I yield," Jeritza announces, and Byleth finally moves away. He lowers his sword, blade facing the ground.

A single drop of blood falls to the floor.

The declaration snaps Ashe out of his trance. "Er," he begins awkwardly, "the winner is professor Byleth!"

"Fight me," Felix declares, so sudden that it shocks everyone there. "Professor Jeritza, fight me right now."

"Felix," Ingrid scolds, although she too, has begun to relax.

Mysteriously, Byleth cannot help but notice Dimitri's eyes drawn to the drop of blood spilled onto the floor. He turns away when Dedue notices it as well.

Byleth waves a heal spell over Jeritza and walks away to place his sword back onto the racks. When no one else moves, he tilts his head ever so slightly. "I don't hear any training," Byleth begins, and the Blue Lions, as well as a very confused Ferdinand and Lysithea- bolt out of their seats.

Out of the corner of his eye, Byleth notices Jeritza and Mercedes share a look. 

Byleth looks away.

.

"Since we have a few new members in the Blue Lions," Sylvain began, already striking fear into the hearts of many, "why don't we do some... bonding exercises?"

_That's great and all,_ Byleth thought to himself, _but why am I here._

The Blue Lions, plus their new additions, are strolling down the market. Byleth only wanted to buy supplies. As if on cue, the Blue Lions emerged behind him, and practically demanded to accompany him.

"They want to spend time with you," Sothis coos, part mocking, and part fond. "Isn't that sweet."

"I don't see the point," Lysithea scoffs, and for some reason the resemblance between her and Sothis right now is absolutely striking. "I just want to study! This is such a waste of time."

Ferdinand shakes his head, and inexplicably Byleth is reminded of the dogs that roamed the monastery freely. "Lysithea!" He declares, voice booming across the market. "You cannot say such a thing! I, for one, am looking forward to these bonding exercises! It'll be grand to get along with my fellow classmates!"

The Blue Lions groan as Sylvain throws an arm around Ferdinand's shoulder, smirk curvy. "Well, that's just great, Ferdinand!"

"Sylvain," Dimitri warns.

"Heeeey," Sylvain whines, pouting at Dimitri. "Come on, your Highness! I can play nice!"

"I would like to see evidence of that," Felix scoffs.

Sylvain bats his eyelashes dangerously. "I was only going to ask what sort of people Ferdinand here is interested in."

"Sylvain!" Ferdinand declares, sounding absolutely scandalized. "That's- not-!"

"Not?"

"Sylvain." Byleth begins, and Sylvain avoids his gaze. "Please don't scare the new people away."

"Fine, fine," Sylvain pouts. "I'll just ask the professor."

"SYLVAIN!" Dimitri booms. Sylvain's smile twists in a playful, goofy sort of way that Byleth hasn't seen since the mission was announced, so he decides to let it slide for now. Such a question was likely harmless.

"So what kinda people are you into, professor?" Sylvain asks, a little smile on his face. "Do you favor the fiesty ones? Maybe the more shy type?"

Byleth shrugs. "I've only ever been in love with one person, so I don't know."

He only realizes his error when all of the Blue Lions turn and gape at him. 

"_Who?!_" Annette demands, and it's halfway to a shriek. "Who is it, you have to tell us everything!"

Mercedes is unhelpfully trying to hide her own little squeal behind her hands. 

"Who cares?" Felix demands, irritated. Both Annette and Mercedes glare at him, which makes him flinch slightly. Byleth can relate. Having the full force of their stares on a single person is quite intimidating.

"I bet it's that Dima person," Sylvain teases, "the one that you called out for in your dreams."

"Don't be crude, Sylvain!" Dimitri scolds, but his voice cracks a little in the middle, which only makes Sylvain's smirk grow. "Who the professor... whoever the professor loves or does not love is none of our business!"

Sothis cackles, long and loud, leaning against Byleth for support. "I'm _dying,_" she wheezes, sounding breathless. "This is just unbelievable!"

_Help me._

Sothis disappears instantly into the far reaches of Byleth's mind, giggling the entire way. Byleth nearly curses aloud.

_I have thirteen Divine Pulses a day,_ Byleth reassures himself. _But what should I say?_

"It doesn't matter," Byleth insists, face carefully blank. 

"You can't say things like that, professor!" Mercedes retorts, eyes so wide and round they might consume the rest of her face. "Love always matters, so you absolutely must not say things like that!"

Byleth has to look away from her earnest expression. It's too much.

"So you should tell us," Ashe joins in, looking oddly interested. Byleth cannot help but notice that his expression resembles something almost teasing, bordering on sly. "About this Dima person."

Byleth wants to hide his head in his hands.

"You know that we'll keep bothering you until you tell us about this person," Sylvain coos, hands to his cheeks. "Come on. Who's the lucky lady."

"First of all, he isn't-"

Byleth only realizes that he's fallen into Sylvain's trap when the Blue Lions seem to explode with an intensity bordering on delirium.

"_HE?!_" Annette shrieks, eyes shining. "Professor, you have to tell us more!"

"That's one part of the mystery solved!" Sylvain says, his grin only climbing higher and higher up his face. Byleth frowns. 

"Sorry, professor," Sylvain simpers, not sounding very sorry at all.

"What's he like?" Mercedes asks, the very picture of innocence- save for the curl of her lips. Byleth wants to curse to the high heavens.

"Did you pine?" Ashe demands, sounding far too exhilarated for the situation.

"Does the professor really look like the sort to pine to you," Linhardt asks, but even he is terrible at hiding his own curiosity.

Lysithea folds her arms across her chest. "This is so pointless!" Byleth politely ignores the way her eyes shine.

Byleth closes his eyes and thinks of Dima. There was one night, just after the Cornelia battle, where Dima had pushed aside work to come eat with the Blue Lions. Sylvain and Annette had said something, and Dima had laughed so hard that he began to turn pink, and Byleth swore that time had stopped in that moment.

It was a blush that resembled more of a bruise, splotchy and inelegant, spread unevenly across his face. Byleth found it immensely attractive for some reason. Ridiculously, Byleth found himself wanting that flush to spread and flood his pale skin with colour. It was such an odd desire that Byleth himself was taken aback by it, and he mentally berated himself.

"He was really pale," Byleth began, only realizing after the words were out in the open that they really didn't sound like a compliment.

"And very sad," Byleth follows up with, and then wonders why he had said such a thing. "Very sad."

Sothis hides her face in her hands. 

"Wow," Sylvain whistles, hands behind his head. "You're really selling this guy, professor."

"I am not good with words," Byleth responds sheepishly. "I do not know how to describe him..."

"In a way that won't utterly expose you," Sothis adds helpfully.

"Well, what did he look like? Besides, you know. Pale and sad." Annette offers, and her eyes widen when she realizes what she said might have been offensive.

Byleth's already dug himself a hole, might as well dig deeper. "He was very pretty."

"Pretty?" Lysithea demands, forgetting that she was meant to play uninterested.

He nods. "Very pretty. Despite that he was taller than me, and more built, and likely had more muscle- he was pretty."

Ferdinand nods along as if he could see the person in his mind. "And?"

"And?"

"Forgive me for being forward, professor," Ferdinand says, sounding a little sheepish. "But I've seen the ring you wear. Are you married?"

Byleth shakes his head. "No. This was my mother's ring. I was meant to give it to the one I wish to marry."

"Not- not this pretty person?" Mercedes asks, sounding slightly lost. 

_Sothis, how do I say that I died before I could ever give Dima this ring?_

She doesn't answer, save for a ripple of pleased amusement. Byleth thinks, desperately, of all the curses he knows.

"He's not here anymore," Byleth replies, even as he hates the words when they leave his lips. But they aren't exactly a lie. 

"Oh." Ashe says. 

The Blue Lions are quiet, now. It's clear that they don't know if they should offer comfort, or say anything.

All of his students begin to fidget uncomfortably when Byleth doesn't continue. "Professor," Ferdinand begins, "I am so-"

"You don't need to apologize," Byleth says in return. "It's been a long time. I am sorry for killing the mood."

_Five years, in fact._

Byleth sighs. "Run along now," Byleth says, more solemn than usual. "Call me over if you want to buy something."

Dimitri parts his lips, but says nothing.

The students look at each other, look at Byleth, and then scatter, save for Sylvain. Byleth blinks. "Already find something that you wish to purchase?"

"No, I," Sylvain rubs the back of his head awkwardly. "Sorry for bringing it up, professor."

"It's okay," Byleth responds. Byleth feels sort of terrible, now- his students must feel bad that they even pushed the subject, while Byleth had only said a twisted truth. "I could have stopped talking about him at any time."

"It's not okay," Sylvain snaps. When Byleth's eyes widen a fraction, Sylvain swears under his breath. "Sorry. Sorry, I didn't-"

Byleth flicks the boy gently on his forehead. "Stop apologizing. Run off to your lover and buy them something nice, or something like that. It's okay, Sylvain."

It's Sylvain's turn to look puzzled. "My lover?"

"Weren't you..."

"Weren't we?" Sylvain's eyes seem to light up and fade, all at once. "Ah, you mean Felix and I. Don't worry, we weren't doing anything inappropriate, and we're not even together. We were just talking. So don't worry about us."

"So Felix pushed you off a bed," Sothis questions, in disbelief.

Byleth tilts his head to the side, a little confused. "But you... Hm. Never mind."

Sylvain looks at his professor for a few soul searching moments, then shrugs as if he's decided it didn't really matter. He shoots Byleth another smile before walking off.

"What is it?" Sothis asks, and Byleth wordlessly nudges her towards his memories.

_"Fe, come on-"_

_"Don't call me that," Felix spits back, even as he allows Sylvain to edge closer. Sylvain steps into Felix's personal space silently, tilting his head ever so slightly when Felix backs against the pillar._

_Byleth, just rounding the corner of the corridor, slaps his hands over his mouth and ducks around the wall, praying to Sothis that he wasn't seen._

_They don't even seem to have heard his clumsy, awkward movements, too lost in their own little world. Byleth thinks that's incentive to look around the corner._

_Felix is cornered. He certainly looks the part. Byleth's never seen such a look on his face, not even in battle. It's near shocking, he doesn't know how to explain his dark eyes nor the curve of his neck. Byleth cannot watch. To exist is to intrude._

_"What should I call you then?" Sylvain asks, reaching up to Felix's head and releasing his bound hair. It glides down in dark, elegant waves. "Darling? Sweetheart? Love?"_

_"You disgust me."_

_"Then tell me to stop," Sylvain replies, and Byleth has to strain his ears to hear it. "Tell me that you hate this, and I'll step away. I'll never call you nicknames again. I'll back off. Tell me, Fe."_

_Felix is looking anywhere but his face. "I loathe you," Felix breathes, and somehow, with just those words, the tension builds and climbs and ascends up Byleth's chest and throat and core- and it's not even directed towards him. It's not even kind. It's not saccharine sweet, nor steeped with flowery language. It's more of an accusation than a confession, but it drips wild emotion nonetheless. Felix is not a maiden in love, and yet he does not move away. Felix does not collapse into Sylvain's arms, and yet it's as if he's held prisoner by the weight of his own words._

_The situation is turned on its head now. Sylvain is cornered, even if Felix is still backed against the wall._

_"I'm swooning," Sylvain tells him, and presses the lines of their bodies together. "You know exactly how to sweet talk me."_

_"You're a masochistic bastard," Felix remarks, even though it sounds more fond than accusing. _

_"Sweetheart," Sylvain replies, and kisses him more softly than the tension in the room would suggest._

_Byleth decides that it's time to go._

Sothis blinks away the memory. "Ah."

_Ah._ Byleth agrees.

"Well, I can see why you would think that they were together," Sothis allows, clearly still affected by the memory. "But this was just before the final battle, right? Maybe they didn't get together yet. Or perhaps, in this world, they won't be together at all."

Byleth hadn't considered that possibility. In the future, after Sylvain had nearly died saving Felix's life, they seemed to never be far from one another. Although Byleth wasn't privy to many of their interactions, Byleth knew that they cared deeply for another, even if they didn't show it on the surface.

Even now.

"It's quite fascinating to see how the students act when they think that you aren't around," Sothis states, her expression one of earnest contemplation. "You also have to take into account that it's both easy and quite difficult for feelings to blossom during war time."

_What do you mean?_

"Mind you, I am just looking into your own memories, but..." Sothis trails off, sounding a tad more quiet despite the fact that only Byleth can hear her. "Fighting life or death battles in which you both learn the value of life as well as learn that you may have someone you hold dear add to the body count... well. It's quite daunting, is it not? Not wanting to be in a relationship because of the war... falling in love in spite of it... Really. You mortals are hardy in the most odd ways."

_Was that a compliment?_

Sothis huffs. "Not at all."

Byleth decides to stop thinking about this, and heads out to look around the market.

He thinks that he's even able to spend a little money on himself this time, and decides to get a new pair of black gloves. Luckily for him, there's a stall set up selling gloves and scarves for the upcoming moons.

"Hm," Byleth hums, hand to his chin. He's appraising the gloves carefully, for they would have to last a long time and withstand many a battle. _Sothis, which ones should I get?_

She groans loudly, the sound rumbling in the back of his mind. "It doesn't matter, does it? You're just going to pick a black one."

_There is nothing wrong with black._

"Professor," Dimitri calls out, and Byleth turns to him. 

"Ah. Perfect timing," Byleth waves over a confused-looking Dimitri and a solemn Dedue, trailing behind his liege. "Help me pick out some gloves."

For some reason, this makes Dimitri brighten. "Ah, of course, professor! I can- _guh._"

Byleth is sliding his old gloves off of his hands when Dimitri makes an odd noise. It's a slow process, because the gloves have long been fitted for his hands, and they nearly peel from his hands and wrists. "What is it, Dimitri?"

"Nothing!" Dimitri replies. He sounds rather squeaky, and his eyes are trailing over Byleth's hands in an odd manner. "Professor, has anyone told you that you have very slender wrists?!"

"That's not really a subject that comes up often," Byleth attempts to joke. "I think that my wrists are a normal size."

"Excellent, professor," Dimitri seems to wheeze. 

Byleth pulls on a set of black gloves. They seem sturdy, and are slightly more soft compared to his last ones. "Dimitri, Dedue, what do you think about these ones?"

Dimitri looks at his hands, then his face. He swallows, before reaching out and grabbing Byleth's hands. 

He squeezes their palms together. "I like the material," Dimitri confesses, voice soft, as he laces their fingers together. He meets Byleth's eyes, and smiles. 

_Dimples,_ Byleth thinks stupidly.

"Then I'll buy these," Byleth says immediately. For some reason, Dedue has closed his eyes, very, very slowly, face tilted up towards the sky.

"That's great," Dimitri remarks faintly. He untangles their hands, as Byleth takes out the gold to pay for the gloves. 

As soon as Byleth's done paying, Dimitri calls out to him again. "Professor?"

"Yes?"

"I should learn to be more direct if you cannot understand," Dimitri states, as he laces their hands together once more. "I won't give up," he declares, before letting go of his hand. 

Dimitri smiles, grand as ever, and walks off. Dedue nods at Byleth before trailing after him.

"...Oh?" Sothis murmurs, "how interesting."

_What?_

"Figure it out yourself," Sothis admonishes.

.

Byleth's simply attempting to reach the fishing pond without accident when he hears something suspicious.

"Professor Byleth-" Byleth hears, and he ducks around one of the pillars by the dormitories.

A few meters away he sees Edelgard, Hubert, and Ferdinand speaking. Sothis practically falls on top of Byleth's head and scrambles around his shoulders to peek at them.

"This is so exciting," Sothis murmurs, her voice charged with energy. 

Ferdinand sounds vaguely excited himself. "Professor Byleth is so kind to us students! I can see why now the Blue Lions dote upon him!"

Sothis gasps. "Is Ferdinand spying on us?" Sothis demands, before she shakes her head. "No... I doubt it. Look at that boy. I think he's been sent to spy without even knowing that was his goal in the first place."

"-with his teachings, I'm sure that I can best you even easier," Ferdinand declares. "He even saved me from a few wild-"

"But have you noticed anything off about him?" Hubert demands, clearly impatient. 

Even from here, Byleth can see Ferdinand's nose wrinkle. "Why are you speaking to me?"

"I don't particularly wish to converse with you either, you-"

"Enough," Edelgard declares. "Ferdinand, have you really not noticed anything unusual about professor Byleth?"

Byleth decides that it's time to step out from his hiding spot. "Odd about me?"

To Edelgard's credit, she does not waver or flinch. "I only hope that you're treating Ferdinand well. He only just transferred, after all."

Byleth can feel Sothis rolling her eyes. He coughs slightly. "Ferdinand. If you have problems with me or my teaching, do not be shy about letting me know."

Seemingly embarrassed, Ferdinand smiles sheepishly. "Of course! And of course, I have no problems with you or your teaching, professor! You're an excellent-"

"Lady Edelgard," Hubert cuts in. "We must take our leave now."

Edelgard nods along. "Of course. Professor. Ferdinand."

As if as an afterthought, she turns toward Byleth. "I do hope that you have not forgotten our promise for tea," she inquires, the tiniest smile on her face.

Byleth knows this game. "I'm looking forward to it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEFORE YALL HOP INTO THE COMMENTS AND YELL ABOUT SOTHIS I JUST WANT TO SAY. LOOK AT THE END NOTES THAT HAVE BEEN THERE SINCE THE CONCEPTION OF THIS FIC. 
> 
> AND ALSO, IM NOT SURE IF I MADE THIS OBVIOUS ENOUGH- SOTHIS IS SO BIASED ABOUT HER OPINIONS. sothis is also, if you haven't noticed, one of the biggest influences on byleth. whether that is a good or bad thing remains unknown.
> 
> (this ain't the last convo they will have like this trust me ;) )
> 
> im upset that i wasn't able to formally join sylvix week, so i hope that the lil blurb of sylvix in there was good lol 
> 
> oh man this was just so much fucking plot but it ain't over yet. next is miklan. im so fucking excited lol iuwiwisisisiisisisoosooso it's gonna be all plot
> 
> another thing: this chapter? all plot. all of it. trust me. all of it.
> 
> thank you so much for reading! ♡
> 
> byleth/dimitri C+ rank  
byleth/dedue C+ rank  
byleth/felix C+ rank  
byleth/annette C+ rank  
byleth/ingrid C+ rank  
byleth/sylvain C+ rank  
byleth/mercedes C+ rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt C+ rank
> 
> byleth/caspar C rank  
byleth/flayn C rank  
byleth/ferdinand ??? rank  
byleth/lysithea ??? rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/claude C rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea C rank


	13. breathing bruises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaaaAAaaAAAAAAA im so so happy that yall seemed to really like the last chapter! gosh i was worried about that conversation because sothis, while fun to write, is also quite complicated to do so too. and also she was saying some wild stuff, so im glad that yall liked it ♡ hhhhhhhhh thank you guys
> 
> i just realized that this is the longest fic ive ever written in my entire life holy shit we wildin
> 
> this chapter........ was so hard to write.......... fighting is so hard to write.............. gosh this entire chapter is mostly fighting and lore aaaaaaaaa

Jeralt and the mercenaries ambush Byleth after class.

"You're always hogging Byleth," one of the mercenaries whine, slipping an arm under Byleth's arm. The Blue Lions stiffen at the usage of Byleth's first name. "Our turn now."

"That's right," another one declares, clinging to his free arm as if their life depended on it. "Byleth has always been accosted by you brats. That's why we're stealing him away."

Jeralt sighs, but does nothing to stop them. "Sorry, kiddo. They seemed hellbent on this."

"Professor," Dimitri begins, sounding slightly wary. The Blue Lions seem to all be waiting for Byleth's explicit declaration that he was fine with the situation. Byleth feels a little warm knowing that Dimitri and the rest of the Blue Lions worry for him. Completely unnecessary, given his strength, but nice to know.

Byleth, well aware that he could easily separate themselves from his grasp, stares at Dimitri and the rest of the Blue Lions blankly. "It appears as if I am being kidnapped," he states, as monotone as possible. Which isn't exactly difficult.

"Haha!" The mercenaries declare, and yank him away from the classroom. 

"I can walk just fine by myself."

"But then you would run, By!"

Byleth blinks at them. "Where to?"

For some reason that makes the mercenaries chuckle. 

Byleth cranes his neck to look at his father over his shoulder. "Where are we going?"

"We're gonna go see your mother," Jeralt says simply, and Byleth nods. "I brought flowers."

"We also brought food!" One of the mercenaries exclaim. "It's been awhile since we've had a meal together, just us!"

A small bit of guilt rises up Byleth's throat, but is instantly quelled by their kind smiles. "Is it alright that we're eating at the grave?"

Jeralt chuckles lightly. "Trust me kiddo, I know she wouldn't mind."

They reach the tombstone without any fanfare and plop unceremoniously onto the grass before it. Jeralt lays a bouquet of red roses atop the stone, running a slow hand down the side. "Hey, Sitri," Jeralt greets. "Brought the family."

A chorus of cheerful greetings ring out from the mercenaries. 

Even Sothis greets her. "Hello there, Byleth's mother."

"Hello," Byleth says, and it feels awkward on his tongue. He hates himself slightly for it. "Mother."

A few of the mercenaries procure baskets of miscellaneous foods and inconspicuous flasks. One of them yanks a flask away from another man, pops the opening, sniffs it, and frowns. "Boss! Jesper's drinking the whiskey again!"

"They have names?!" Sothis demands, legitimately surprised.

_Sothis._

"What? It is not as if you ever refer to them by name. That is entirely on you and your horrendous memory." Byleth stifles a sigh.

Jeralt scoffs, sitting down next to Byleth. "Like you're not enabling him, you brat."

The mercenary sticks out his tongue at Jeralt. "Not a brat. I have a name, you know."

Sothis' eyes widen in surprise, and Byleth cannot help this sigh. "They _all_ have names?!"

_Were you just grouping them together under the mercenary category, Sothis? Did you all think that they possessed no other name but 'mercenary?'_

She doesn't answer right away, so Byleth assumes that he's right.

His father leans over Byleth's lap to reach into a basket, procuring two fish sandwiches and handing one to Byleth. "Here. We stole them from the kitchen."

"Borrowed them without permission," another mercenary pipes up. 

"Stole them," his father repeats, face completely void of expression. If not for the slight crinkle around his eyes, Byleth would not have noticed his amusement.

"What's that one's name?" Sothis asks, genuinely curious. The mercenaries have already begun to eat. Byleth is extremely jealous.

_Their name is Klaus,_ Byleth replies, and tries not to fidget openly in the wake of her awe. 

Sothis throws herself onto the grass next to him, pointing at each mercenary in turn. "What about that one? Or that one? Or the one that looks far too disheveled for noon?"

_Jade,_ Byleth thinks back. _And that one is Mistel, and that one is-_

The goddess leans back onto Byleth's arm. "My goodness. So you really weren't lying. They do possess names! No matter how many mortals we encounter, I shall never, ever grow accustomed to the sound of human names. It's quite odd. You've shared many a battle with them, and yet until now, I had no idea what their names were!" 

Instead of answering, Byleth takes a bite of the fish sandwich. The bread is pillowy soft, and the fish is juicy and tender underneath a crispy, golden batter. There's some sort of savory sauce that coats the underside of the bread, as well as some leafy greens, which add overall balance and texture to the dish.

All in all, it's a perfect dish. Byleth hurriedly gobbles the rest of the sandwich up, licking the crumbs off of his fingers and eagerly reaching into the basket for another one.

"Woah there, Byleth," his father admonishes, "the food ain't going anywhere. Take your time."

"Hey Byleth," a mercenary calls, and Sothis is practically bouncing up and down when she realizes that it's one that she knows the name of, Mistel, "what kinda fish is it?"

"Armid pike," Byleth responds instantly. 

"Ooh," the mercenaries applaud. "Impressive, as always."

While he and his father sit in silence, the mercenary group begins to eat and drink merrily, toasting each other despite the fact that the sun was still high in the sky. 

Sothis frowns, her brows furrowing. "When I get a body, I want to try this sandwich as well. It seems as if all of you are enjoying this meal immensely."

_Sure. I can make you one, if you desire._

Jeralt sighs, finishing off his own sandwich. "If you're done eating, scoot. Gotta talk to Byleth about something."

"Yes, captain!" The mercenaries exclaim, hurriedly finishing up their meals. They each do a little half nod or lift a hand in goodbye at the tombstone before they leave.

Byleth and his father watch them stumble up the stairs.

"Byleth-"

"You talked with Sothis," Byleth states. It's not a question.

Jeralt sighs, standing from the grass and wiping off the crumbs and debris. "Was just about to say that. You beat me to it."

"I talked with her as well," Byleth continues, beginning to stand. His father reaches his hand out to help him up, and he takes it gratefully.

"Oh?"

Byleth nods. "Yeah. She has already told you this, but she wants to kill Edelgard and take that body."

"Yeah," Jeralt says, rubbing the back of his head. "Listen, kiddo. I don't really know any of the details, really, but our best bet is to probably kill that Edelgard girl before she starts the war."

"So you agree with Sothis," Byleth responds. 

His father nods. "Yeah. I just don't know what you're planning on doing, Byleth. We have to look at all of our options here. Besides, do you have a plan to stop her, anyway?"

This statement grinds Byleth's thoughts to a halt. "To be honest," Byleth trails off. "I've never really thought about it. Have I done anything remarkable yet? Perhaps everything that I've done up until now might have been pointless."

Suddenly, his father ruffles his hair so aggressively that Byleth flinches. "Father-"

"You know that I didn't mean it like that, Byleth." Jeralt scolds. Byleth hangs his head a little, and at the sight of that, his father ruffles his hair a little harder. "You've been doing a great job."

"It feels as if I have done nothing so far."

"Wrong," Jeralt replies. "You have. It's just that those events seem so small, in regards to a full-scale war."

Byleth stares at the tomb where his father laid in his past life, and clenches his fists. "I am not sure that I have done anything of note."

"Kostas," His father lists off, "You spared him."

"That's-"

"That's one life," Jeralt interrupts, and throws an arm around Byleth's shoulder, patting it roughly. "That's one card in your hands. Even a single person can change the tide of battle, kiddo. You know this."

When Byleth doesn't respond, Jeralt continues. "You killed that Tomas guy. Glad he's gone, creep. From what I've heard, he would have killed everyone in Remire? You've saved many a life already, son."

"It will not matter if the war starts up again."

"But you won't let it happen. You've always been the stubborn, headstrong sort. Like your mother."

On Byleth's other side, Sothis slips her hand into Byleth's own.

"Don't forget that you've saved that Ashe kid's father," Jeralt reminds. "Lonato. As of right now, he might be one of your most important cards."

"Why?"

"Well-renowned nobility, already a leader of his own troops, likely affiliated with the Western Church," Jeralt lists off, and then snorts. "Probably not anymore, after we talked to him. He did inform us that they would probably come during the Goddess' Rite of Rebirth, correct? Yeah. That guy's probably screwed his head right 'round this time and realized that he was being used as a statement, or a pawn."

Byleth's fists have already relaxed at his sides, but they clench up again at the mention of Lonato. "That's what makes him dangerous," Byleth whispers. "I don't know what he'll do. He never lived this long in my past life."

"It's just another battle, Byleth," Jeralt reminds him. "And like every other battle you've fought before, you'll come out victorious. What's the key to battle?"

"Strategy," Byleth replies immediately, reminded of his younger years, where he would follow his father around with a toy sword and wordlessly ask to be taught.

"So, what do you know about the enemy? Or in this case, Lonato?" 

Byleth closes his eyes. "He's a leader on horseback. Skilled. Fueled by vengeance, which makes him significantly weaker and short-sighted. His troop looks up to him, and listens to him without question, a mix of respect and adoration. Good for morale. They head in first, which makes him more vulnerable than he thinks. One well timed arrow, and it's over."

Jeralt hums. "What else? What's his weak spot?"

"Ashe," Byleth replies immediately, and then frowns. "I am not using Ashe like that."

"I am not suggesting that you use one of your little pupils," Jeralt replies. "While you wonder about this man and his plans, you gotta realize that he's sizing you up as well. You've got a big weakness of his right here, loyal to you. Trust me, Byleth. It might seem that you've got no cards, and that you're fighting something bigger than yourself, but the tides are already changing. You're the most dangerous piece on the board. Now, what does Edelgard have?"

"Years of planning. A royal background. Armies at her disposal, alongside people that can seemingly create demonic beasts. The Empire."

"What do you have?" Jeralt asks.

"Time," Byleth replies, bleakly. It sounds rather lacking, compared to everything Byleth had just mentioned. "Knowledge of the future."

Sothis squeezes his hand. "The power of a goddess."

There is a brief pause. "Do you hate Edelgard?" Jeralt asks, quieter now despite the gruff tone.

"I hated her," Byleth replies, and Sothis gasps at his side. "But I believe that I am numb to it now. I have spent many a night cursing her name and the Empire while we buried our dead and prayed for our living. I am tired of her and of this war. Besides, Sothis hates her enough for the both of us."

Jeralt doesn't speak. "You know that my offer to just kill her and run off to Dagda is still valid, right, kiddo?" 

Byleth manages a smile.

"You have me as well," Jeralt adds simply. "You have your students. You have people that love you. It may not seem like much, but you already know that one person can change the future as we know it. I mean, look at you. Look how much good you've already done. You're gonna turn the world on its head, Byleth."

For a moment, they stand in silence. Byleth allows his chest to fill with hope.

"Thank you," Byleth murmurs, pressing himself more firmly into his father's side.

"That's just what dads do," Jeralt responds. "No need for thanks. ...Hey, did I ever mention how much your mother liked flowers?"

Byleth appreciates the change in subject, no matter how awkward or abrupt. "No," Byleth says, staring at the roses that Jeralt placed there.

"I'm pretty sure that you got your green thumb from her," Jeralt says. "She taught me all sorts of things about flowers- like about alkanet flowers. Do you know what they are?"

Byleth shakes his head. He's pretty sure that he's never grown those in the greenhouse. He listens to his father explain their meaning and gradually relaxes.

.

"May I speak with you for a moment, Cyril?" Byleth asks, waving a slow hand at him. 

Cyril wipes his hands off onto a cloth before turning to him. Byleth's just caught him weeding the area around the classes. "Sure, professor. Lady Rhea did say that I should help you with whatever I can."

Byleth nods. "Then that makes this easier. Cyril, please join my class."

The boy blinks at him confusedly. "Er... I can't be a real part of your class, but I can help out with missions and stuff! And I can attend some classes, if I am free."

"That's not it," Byleth interrupts. "I want you to join my class."

"Why?" Cyril demands, beginning to sounding rather offended. "There's no need for me to be there."

"Have you ever been in school, Cyril?"

Cyril shakes his head. "I've never seen the point. All I need to do is to help Lady Rhea in any way I can, and studying will only hinder that."

"Have you never thought about how learning could aid you more?"

"Not really."

Byleth tries to think about the Cyril from his past life. He was fond of the boy, despite his attachment to Rhea. Stubborn, loyal to a fault, and incredibly blunt. Upon a wyvern, he was absolutely unstoppable in battle. He had only just learned to read when Byleth had recruited Lysithea into the Blue Lions. 

"Cyril, do you know how to read?"

Cyril shakes his head. "Naw. Hey, are you making fun of me?"

"Not at all. Do you not believe that you cannot help Rhea by learning new things?"

Cyril turns back to the pile of weeds. "I see what you're doing here, professor. I may not be able to read, but I can promise you that I will never not help Lady Rhea. Besides, I'm from Almyra. Your students will probably hate having me there."

"Let's find out, shall we?" Byleth says, then marches over to the Blue Lions' classroom.

"Hey, professor, hold on-!" Cyril exclaims, jogging to catch up with him. Byleth doesn't stop as he pushes open the door and meets everyone's eyes.

"Hello, professor!" Dimitri greets. "Oh, and hello Cyril!"

Byleth clears his throat and waits for the noise to die down. "How would you feel if Cyril joined our class?"

A pause.

"Cyril!" Annette exclaims. "You're joining our class!? Yes! I've always wanted to get to know you better!"

"I haven't actually-"

"This is so exciting!" Mercedes exclaims. 

"I can't be a student!" Cyril declares loudly, and everyone falls silent. "I can't read, and I'm too busy with chores from Lady Rhea! I'm also from Almyra, don't you guys dislike me?"

Lysithea smiles at him. "Isn't that what learning is for? We can teach you how to read, obviously."

"And about being too busy," Ingrid begins, with a tiny grin, "you're already working so hard. You deserve to relax, too. I am sure Lady Rhea would approve of you taking time for yourself and learning in a classroom."

Dedue attempts a smile of his own. "I am from Duscur. I understand your apprehension, but I have come to have people that appreciate my presence here. You need not worry."

"I for one would be happy to have you join the Blue Lions, Cyril," Dimitri adds, giving him a gentle smile.

"...Fine." A cheer rises up from the Blue Lions. "But if Lady Rhea needs me, I have to go, okay?"

Ashe stands from his seat violently, looking so excited he seems like he's glowing. Linhardt, who was sleeping on the desk next to him, jerks violently awake. "I have an idea that may help you learn to read!"

Cyril blinks awkwardly, surprised in the face of Ashe's infectious enthusiasm. "Y-yeah?" No one can resist the force of Ashe's smile, apparently.

"Let's start a book club!"

"Ooh!" Ingrid says, her own smile beginning to blind. "An excellent idea, Ashe!"

Byleth watches as Cyril is slowly accepted into the fold. He sighs. 

"That's another person in the Blue Lions," Sothis says, the curve of her lip sharp enough to cut glass. 

_We might as well have as many allies as possible,_ Byleth thinks back.

"...right, professor?"

Byleth jolts at the address. "Yes. Yes, sure. Of course. I was listening."

Lysithea is smirking at him. "Well then, that's settled. You'll be the supervisor of the book club."

Sylvain grins, reaching into a pile of books on his desk. "I've just the book we can start with. It's a book of poetry, but only certain poems are good. Just- don't look at the ones I don't recommend."

"You don't read poetry," Ingrid insists, trying to swipe the book out of Sylvain's hands. He dodges the grab easily, tutting softly, but now he's in perfect range for Byleth to swipe the book out of his hands and flip to the page he had bookmarked with a slip of paper.

"Professor!" Sylvain exclaims, sounding terribly scandalized.

Byleth flips open to the page and suddenly he's lost any sense of coherence and any ability to read.

_...I press my tongue to your throat, your thorns, the curl of the vine. I lick the dew from the fruit, I taste your sweetness and I lap up your dreams and call them mine._

_You strip me of my wings, and I thank you, I moan, I beg, I pray for mercy, mercy, for you are my god. I worship the skin, the sweat, your smile, your light, and kiss bruises onto your neck that I dare not claim, I praise, I beg, I sigh, I fall to one knee to meet you. Holy are you, I confess sins into your throat and when I sing gospel I know your name alone, I worship at your altar, I know only devotion-_

"Sylvain."

"Yes, professor?"

"See me after class."

"Yes, professor."

.

Byleth bursts into his father's office with the urgency of an impending war on the horizon. It's not an entirely inaccurate comparison.

"I have to ask you for some favours," Byleth begins, disheveled from the slight run. 

Jeralt looks up at him from his papers. "What is it? Something happen? Are you hurt?"

"While I am away, could you please possibly befriend Rodrigue and Seteth? You could talk about being fathers, or something?"

"Wait, Seteth is a-"

"Could you also please teach a seminar for my students right now? I must have tea with professor Jeritza, and this is one conversation I cannot allow them to listen in on."

"Like, right now-"

"Yes, right now," Byleth interrupts hurriedly, running around the desk and coercing his father to stand from his chair with his hands. "I just realized that I might not have time."

"Hold on, hold on," Jeralt cuts in. "Okay. Breathe. What's going on?"

"Flayn will be kidnapped in a few days," Byleth explains, "but I have no idea when. I will talk to Jeritza, see if I can somehow persuade him out of it, or see if I can delay it some how, so I can catch him and any of his allies in the act. Perhaps interrogate them, if we are lucky."

Jeralt sighs and picks up his lance. "Alright. Your brats are in the Blue Lions' classroom, right? I'll make sure they settle in for a seminar. Teach them some authority or something. While you're away, I'll also keep an eye out for Flayn, make sure that that girl ain't preemptively kidnapped. But you gotta slow down, kid. You gotta realize that you've got time."

Byleth makes a show out of taking a few deep breaths. "Of course," he says slowly, "thank you, father. I'll go look for him in the training grounds now."

"He's right, you know," Sothis drawls. "You've got time." She laughs at the irony of the statement. 

_Yes, well, it does not really seem that way._

Byleth finds Jeritza in the training grounds, alongside-

"Felix?"

Felix looks up at him, eyes narrowing. He lifts an arm up to his forehead to wipe his sweat off with the sleeve. "Professor," he greets. "I was training with professor Jeritza."

Jeritza doesn't even nod at Byleth. He simply holds his gaze. Byleth cannot help but notice that he has not put away his weapon yet.

"I see," Byleth responds, even though he clearly cannot. "My father is about to hold a seminar for your class, so you must go."

Frowning, Felix sheathes his sword. "Fine, fine." He's halfway out the door when he turns back to Byleth. "Professor."

"Yes?"

"I find that the best way for our kind to communicate is through battle," Felix says inexplicably. He meets Byleth's eyes and tilts his chin up, as if in challenge. "Don't you?"

With those final words, he leaves.

"I really don't get it," Sothis begins, and Byleth has to agree with her, "but that boy is weirdly perceptive about the oddest things."

_I am aware._

Byleth had every intention to invite Jeritza to tea, but after Felix had said such a thing...

"Jeritza," Byleth greets after a moment.

He doesn't respond. 

Despite Byleth's own preference to stay silent and allow others to do the talking for him, he wasn't entirely used to quieter people, especially since he was constantly surrounded by rowdy students.

"...Maybe you should invite him to tea, like in the original plan," Sothis murmurs, sounding bemused. "Perhaps he would be more eager to speak over a nice cup of chamomile or albinean berry blend."

_Word games aren't my forte. And not mind games._

"Clearly," Sothis giggles. "You've always had others to fill in the blanks for you."

"Are you just going to gawk?" Jeritza asks, his sword finally lowering.

"He speaks!" Sothis exclaims. 

Byleth tilts his head to the side. "Would you like to join me for tea?"

No answer.

Sothis huffs. "This one is so rude."

"I sparred with you earlier," Byleth reminds him. "And won."

Jeritza shakes his head. "You'll find that if we spar again, the results will change."

Now normally Byleth isn't one to express most of his emotions, but this statement makes him bristle slightly. Even Sothis seems to straighten. 

"It's not as if that scythe of yours would help you win against me," Byleth retorts blandly, and only his instincts allow him to dodge Jeritza's sudden swing at his head.

Byleth ducks, narrowing his eyes- if the attack would have connected, it would have separated his head clean from his shoulders. 

"It seems as if this is the only way you both know how to talk," Sothis says, and the Sword of the Creator practically sings as it's called to Byleth's hands. Blade in hand, he parries a blow aimed at his torso and pushes Jeritza back, the strength of his swing making Jeritza's feet skid across the floor. He stumbles, but quickly collects himself.

Jeritza keeps swinging the rapier at him, not letting up in the slightest. He's slowly backing Byleth into one of the pillars of the training grounds.

Byleth's eyes narrow. He dodges another stab- straight between his eyes, and hurries to widen the space between them. Thinking fast, he cracks his srist and his sword flies out, snake-like as it curls around Jeritza's rapier. Once the weapon is taut, he yanks at it and the rapier flies out of Jeritza's hands.

"Stealing someone else's moves, are we?" Sothis mocks cheekily, "go beat him up!"

Byleth doesn't have to be asked twice. Jeritza, stilled temporarily from the shock of losing his weapon, has no time to move before Byleth closes the distance between them and punches the man in the face.

He hears a sickening crunch as Jeritza goes down. 

The sword retracts, and Byleth sighs, kneeling down next to the man. "Ready to talk-"

Suddenly, Jeritza reaches up and tries to hit Byleth with a punch of his own. It barely clips his nose, but the results are the same- Byleth throws another vicious punch at Jeritza, who has not given up at clawing at Byleth.

"Byleth!" Sothis exclaims, hands over her mouth. 

It's ugly, and raw. There's none of the finesse or foot work of swordsmanship. Jeritza is yanking relentlessly at Byleth's hair, and he's made one good hit upon Byleth's jaw that has him seeing stars, and Byleth has not let up with his fists- both his knuckles and Jeritza's face are a bloody, angry mess. The mask has cracked slightly under the assault.

They tussle and roll in the dirt, kicking up an ugly sludge that only makes them look even more filthy, Jeritza's pale hair dyed in the unflattering colours.

Byleth wins when he overpowers Jeritza and forces him completely to the ground, straddling his torso and pinning both of his the man's fists to the ground with a single hand.

He allows Jeritza to struggle and kick under his weight for a bit, and then the man practically collapses when he realizes that he wasn't going anywhere.

Sothis allows her shoulders to relax. "Goodness, Byleth, all you ever do is scare the life out of me!"

Jeritza's cracked lips part, blood running down his nose. There's a smear of blood on his broken mask. He looks so unbelievably unkempt, and raw. The white of his outfit is caked with blood and dirt. Byleth wonders what his own face looks like. 

When he speaks, Byleth has to lean in to hear. 

"I didn't think that you would be the type to fight dirty," Jeritza murmurs.

Byleth has to hold back a huff. "I am a mercenary. I did not think that you would be the type to attack without warning."

"Then I don't believe that you know me at all," Jeritza says, "despite everything you seem to know."

"Oh?"

"I think that you know more than you let on," Jeritza murmurs, and Byleth only realizes that they're close- too close, when he feels the tiny puff of Jeritza's breath upon his face.

Byleth sighs, and slowly stands from Jeritza's body, tense in awaiting another attack. Surprisingly, Jeritza makes no move to get up.

"I did promise to speak with you," Jeritza allows. "Forgive me for attacking you without warning."

He would sound almost polite and sincere were there not blood running down his face.

"Is he serious right now?" Sothis demands. "He nearly killed you!"

Byleth offers him a hand, which Jeritza stares at for a long moment before taking it and allowing himself to be pulled, sitting upright.

Byleth lifts a hand and waves a heal spell over the both of them, not saying anything even when he can feel the weight of Jeritza's stare upon his skin. Reaching into his cloak, Byleth procures a handkerchief- given to him by Mercedes- and hands it to Jeritza. 

The man wipes his face upon the handkerchief, and it only smears the blood across his face. Sothis snorts at the sight, her smile wobbly. When Jeritza tries to hand it back to him, Byleth shakes his head.

"Keep it," Byleth says, trying not to wince at the sight of blood upon the delicate white fabric. Jeritza nods in response.

"I don't know how much you think I know," Jeritza continues, still looking at him strangely, "but I only follow orders."

Sothis groans, head in her hands. "Why is it that we only get to speak with lackeys!?" Byleth has to agree. They're not getting anywhere, nor are they learning much about their enemy.

"But."

Both Byleth and Sothis snap to attention. "Cornelia's allegiance does not lie with Faerghus."

"We know this already, that sly little-"

"Whatever you have heard," Jeritza continues, eyes still on the bloody handkerchief, "it is not entirely true that she was summoned here. She is coming here, of her own volition, for several reasons. And one of them is you."

Byleth allows that information to sink in. What could she possibly want with Byleth?

It doesn't seem as if Jeritza will continue, so Byleth nods. "Thank you for letting me know," Byleth replies. "May I ask you a question?"

Jeritza nods. 

"What do you want to do with Flayn?" Byleth asks, and Jeritza stills. 

"So you do know about it-" Jeritza begins, but is cut off by the door to the training grounds slamming open.

The Blue Lions spill in, followed by a tired looking Jeralt. "Sorry, kiddo, I wanted to stall them for longer than thirty minutes, but as soon as they heard that you were- _what the hell happened here?!_"

Byleth looks down at himself. His armor is scuffed, covered in dirt and blood and other miscellaneous grime. Luckily for him, he was wearing his old gloves, for these ones are now torn at the knuckles and are a pulpy, bloody mess. And he cannot even see his own face. He wonders who looks more tousled- himself or Jeritza.

"Definitely Jeritza," Sothis replies, examining the other man with narrowed eyes. "You broke his nose, and even with a heal spell he looks absolutely barbaric."

"Professor!" Dimitri exclaims, running over to Byleth's side. He picks up Jeritza's rapier as he hurries towards his professor. 

He reaches up and cups Byleth's face with one hand, and Byleth freezes under the familiar touch. But Dimitri's only checking if his nose is broken, or if his jaw was unaligned. 

Despite the little harm to his face, Byleth can hear a crunch- Dimitri's fist has tightened around the hilt of the sword so firmly that it's warped and broken. 

"What have you done?" Dimitri demands, whirling on Jeritza. Byleth startles. He has yet to hear any sort of looming darkness from this Dimitri, but the way his voice sounded just then was like...

"Dima," Sothis finishes.

"It's fine," Byleth says, stepping in between the two men. The rest of the Blue Lions, save for a Mercedes trying to readjust her brother's nose- have made a wide circle around them. "It was just a regular duel," he insists.

"It looks worse than you would think," Jeritza says, and both Sothis and Byleth startle at the unexpected assist.

With both professors refusing to admit to any of what had just happened, the Blue Lions have no choice but to back down. 

Jeralt catches Byleth's gaze, and his eyes narrow. Byleth mentally prepares himself for the scolding of a lifetime.

.

"Happy birthday, Dedue," Byleth greets him at the gate. The Blue Lions are already up, bright and early to face Miklan. Despite the early dawn, the sky is already ominous with the incoming storm. "I am sorry that we must depart on a mission on your birthday. I promise that I will invite you to tea and give you your gift once we get back.

"It is of no matter," Dedue says, with a tiny nod. "Your thoughts and well wishes are enough."

"Allow me to treat you at times," Byleth replies. "You deserve it."

Dedue shakes his head silently. "It is more than I deserve. Thank you."

Byleth does a head count. Half of his father's mercenaries, Gilbert, the Blue Lions and a tired looking Sylvain, who's hands were gripped tightly around the reins of his new horse...

His eyes settle on Cyril. "Cyril."

The boy straightens at the address. "Yes, professor?"

"You're not coming," Byleth tells him, and waits carefully for the boy to react.

Cyril straightens his shoulders, as if to seem taller. "I am. Lady Rhea said to help you in any way-"

"If you are to help me, then you are going to stay behind," Byleth says bluntly, and the students startle at his tone. "You are fourteen. You are inexperienced, and I have not trained you for long. I am not introducing you to battle without your consent."

"But I don't mind-"

"That is exactly why you cannot come," Byleth says. "You do not mind. Not about your wellbeing, if it means you can be useful. I may have coerced into joining my class, it's true, but I will not force anyone who does not fight to fight."

Byleth stares at each of his students individually. "That goes for all of you. You may kill someone today. You may lose more than a life today. Everyone must realize that."

Cyril looks as if he's about to stomp his feet. "But I understand that-"

"Cyril," Byleth insists. "Please. I want you to think about what you want to do. Not what Lady Rhea wants you to do. If you are going to learn anything from my class, then learn some self care. You have a will of your own, and when you think it over, if you truly wish to fight, then you may join. You have time."

The boy flushes up to his roots in indignation. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but stomps off instead.

Silence.

"I think that you did the right thing," Lysithea says simply. Of all people, Byleth did not expect her attempts at comfort or reassurance. "Pressuring children into matters out of their hands is despicable. Even if they think they've thought it through, or if they think that they have to..."

"You're still a child," Sylvain jokes weakly. "And barely older than Cyril."

As if on cue, Lysithea puffs up in anger. "Don't treat me like a kid!"

Ferdinand raises his hand as if they were still in the classroom. "I also think that you did the right thing. While he does seem determined to help..."

"All that Rhea worship is seriously getting to him," Felix comments, rolling his eyes. "He's like, five."

"Fourteen," Ingrid corrects.

"Same difference," Felix confirms.

"Are you sure that you're not secretly nobility?" Ferdinand continues, examining Byleth with a pleasant smile. He's soothing his own horse gently.

Byleth stares at him.

"Professor?" Ferdinand inquires, looking distinctly puppy-like. "Is there something on my face?"

_Sometimes I look at you and see your face and hair matted with blood,_ Byleth doesn't say. _Sometimes I can hear you rallying your troops, eager to prove your worth to Edelgard. Eager to win. Eager to live. Sometimes I close my eyes and you've fallen out of your saddle once more, slumped against the floor, wheezing for air. I would wonder if you would have allowed me to persuade you. I wonder if you would have backed down. I wonder if I'll ever be able to look at you without knowing how your flesh yielded to my blade._

"Nothing," Byleth says, instead. "Shall we get moving?"

.

"It should be in our sights soon, professor," Dimitri says, after a few hours of walking in the chilly rain. Linhardt had already given up on walking an hour ago, in favor of sitting on the back of Ferdinand's horse and falling asleep, slumped against Ferdinand despite Ferdinand's loud voice. Ashe has taken it upon himself to sit with Sylvain, trying to make the boy smile. Mercedes has been desperately trying to keep a tiny fire spell alive in the pouring rain, to little effect. 

Byleth nods, as Dimitri approaches with Gilbert in tow. Annette has been unsuccessfully trying to catch Gilbert's eyes the entire march, which in turn makes Felix, Ingrid, and Lysithea glare at the man.

"The abandoned tower those thieves are using as a base... Conand Tower."

"This area was the site of a massive battle several hundred years ago," Gilbert adds, "That's when invasions from the north were at their peak. Back then, this tower was built for both surveillance and defense. It will be difficult to seize it."

Dimitri, who was also slightly upset with Gilbert for not acknowledging his daughter, flashes him a smile without dimples. "You're very well informed, Gilbert! Please, tell us more."

Flustered, Gilbert folds his arms across his chest. "Well, I... Ah. You're joking."

The prince turns back to Byleth. "Professor. Did you see the local villages?" When Byleth nods, Dimitri continues. "They were in rough shape, no doubt because of the thief attacks. They're not going to make it through the winter in that condition. If the thieves had taken up pillaging in order to survive, that would be deplorable... but understandable."

Face dark, Dimitri shakes his head. "But this... This is something else entirely. It looks as though they destroyed those villages purely for pleasure. No matter what their reasons may be, that sort of behavior cannot be allowed. Ever."

On the back of his horse, Sylvain trots up next to them, a disheartened looking Ashe sitting behind him. "Don't bother wasting your head over those lowlifes, your Highness," Sylvain spits. "It's wasted effort."

"Sylvain..." Dimitri trails off. "Your brother, Miklan. I know that he has been disowned, but..."

"He's no longer a member of house Gautier... or my brother. He's nothing more than a common thief." At his back, Ashe curls up into himself.

Dimitri too, looks a bit sad. "Are you sure about that? It would be understandable to find this situation... well, regrettable, to say the least."

Sylvain laughs, and it's such a bitter sound that even Sothis winces in sympathy. "Regrets? Heh, you must be joking. You know we're far past the point of regret. And it always falls on the younger brother to clean up the mistakes of their elders, doesn't it?"

"Sylvain," Ashe begins, his voice trembling.

"Ashe," Sylvain says, his voice a little softer now. "I know your big brother loved you. But that's not the case with Miklan and I. If anyone should feel bad, it's him. Trust me on this."

Byleth stares up at Sylvain, who is haloed by a coming storm. "So what do you want to do?"

Sylvain shrugs, noncommittal. "I don't care at this point. I trust you, professor. Do whatever you want to that sad excuse of an older brother."

He urges his horse to walk away. Dimitri sighs in the wake of his absence. "This rain threatens a coming storm. We must hurry and begin our war council before the heavens let loose."

.

The tower is a steep, terrible climb, especially with some of the ceiling and walls cracked. Blistering air and freezing rain occasionally slip through and assault them. Even Linhardt is awake now, jostled by the harsh horse ride in the tower.

"The enemy is close by. We're almost to the top floor," Gilbert announces.

Dimitri cracks his knuckles. It seems to be a habit now for Dimitri to play with his hands before battle. His fingers twist the ring Byleth had given him. "They are merely thieves, but they have a hero's relic. Do not drop your guard."

"Don't hold back for my sake," Sylvain declares, with a painted smile. "My brother is going to pay for everything he's done."

Byleth closes his eyes. He can't see a way around killing Miklan. He doesn't know what will happen if he keeps him alive. Miklan was the type of person to steal a hero's relic and use it to destroy and pillage, the kind of person to push his little brother down wells. He can't say that he doesn't understand why, but Byleth cannot sympathize with him. 

"Besides," Sothis whispers, reading into his thoughts, "who knows what he'll do if he lives. You may have spared Lonato, but it was partly for Ashe."

_I suppose that we are killing him then._

The battle begins. 

"Annette, Ingrid, Dedue, stay behind with Gilbert. There may be reinforcements. The rest of you are with me."

"Yes!"

The battle goes as well as it possibly can. The bandits seem not all surprised that they're there, but are surprised when Byleth cuts off their stream of reinforcements. 

In Byleth's last life, the battle didn't go as smoothly. At this point in time, he had only around five Divine Pulses, and used four of them- one, to save Mercedes, who was descended upon by reinforcements, and the rest of them on Miklan- one while he was still human, and the rest of them for when he became a beast and killed Ashe and Annette in one blow.

He's actually surprised at the progress they're making- until an arrow from above hits Ferdinand's horse, sending the horse bucking, and tossing Ferdinand out of the saddle and onto the floor- whilst the horse goes wild, knocking a few of their enemies down but also felling an unaware Linhardt and Ferdinand- trampled in its wake. Lysithea and Ashe are screaming.

Byleth closes his eyes and allows a wave of nausea to rush over him. 12 remaining. "Ashe," Byleth commands, "I believe there's an archer on the other side."

Ashe doesn't ask questions. He lets an arrow fly through a gap in the wall, and only relaxes slightly when he hears the gurgle of a fallen unit. "Done and done, professor." His gaze is solemn.

They just barely turn the corner, and Byleth can hear Miklan barking orders from the other side, as well as the rest of his students alongside Gilbert, hurry to join them.

Of course, that's when reinforcements seem to peel out of the walls behind them. Byleth allows himself a curse. He had totally forgotten about these reinforcements. Three of them gang up on Dedue. When he hears Annette shriek his name, Byleth doesn't even have to think- he allows another Divine Pulse flow through him and fights the urge to vomit. 

Before they turn the corner this time, Byleth breaks part of the wall and the hidden corridor crumbles in on itself.

He waits a few moments before they pass the corner. Nothing but the sound of his students' footsteps. Byleth tries not to think about whether or not the bandits were caught in the rubble.

This time, when they turn the corner, Byleth runs smack into someone else. He can hear someone exclaim his name, but he's too surprised at the sight.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Kostas demands, axe lowering. A few of his men have stopped in their tracks.

Sothis looks like she's about to scream. 

"I could ask you the same," Byleth says, lifting the Sword of the Creator to Kostas' chest.

Kostas tries to back off. "Hey, hey, hey! I thought that we bonded and all that! Can you put that thing away, please?! Shit."

Pressing the sword into Kostas' chest, Byleth stalks forward. "Not until you tell me why you're here."

"Fuck! Fine. It's just bandit work, innit?" Kostas attempts to explain. "I gotta get some of my boys back together, but some of them already joined this crazy Miklan guy! I regret being here already- I just knew that they would send knights over when that dumbass stole the relic!"

Byleth narrows his eyes.

"Byleth," Sothis hisses, "we don't have time for him! Just kill him already!"

_Wait._

"If you don't want me to kill you," Byleth says simply. "Wait until after the battle. I have a job for you."

"I like my head attached to my shoulders, thanks," Kostas says, but backs off. "Boys! Get over here! Don't attack the brats!"

"You traitor!" One of Miklan's men say. Kostas rolls his eyes.

"I ain't dying for that crazy asshole," Kostas declares, and runs the other way. Several of the men follow.

"Coward!" The same man screams.

Dimitri shoots Byleth a look.

"I promise that I shall explain everything in due time," Byleth says, "please just trust me for now."

Dimitri nods, but shoots Byleth a look that promises that this conversation isn't over.

Felix makes a face. "Do all bandits know each other or something?"

_I am in big trouble._ Byleth thinks desperately.

"Yup," Sothis nods.

The Blue Lions, finally all together in one group at last, make quick work of the remaining mercenaries.

"I'm out of magic," Annette says, and out of nowhere, Gilbert wordlessly hands her a spare axe. "...Thank you." 

There is a noticable pause during battle, where Miklan's loud order have stopped suddenly, and Byleth's eyes narrow. "...Sylvain. He's coming."

"I... I know."

The remainder of the bandits seem to part for Miklan. "Why have you come, you crest bearing fool?"

Sylvain's nose scrunches up, eyes narrowing. He looks dangerous. "I'm here for the Lance of Ruin, Miklan," Sylvain declares. "Hand it over. I don't want to humiliate you, but I will."

Miklan scoffs, the sound angry. "Hmph! Hurry up and die already. If not for you... If it hadn't been for you..."

Dimitri, Ingrid, and Felix all turn to Sylvain as one, eyes wide. 

"Shut _up!_" Sylvain yells, "I'm so tired of hearing that. You've always blamed me for something that isn't my fault."

They collide. 

Miklan waves the lance around, flailing wildly. It seems inelegant, and random, but when Sylvain dodges and the lance collides with the wall, it crumbles.

Byleth takes a step towards them.

"Sorry, professor," Sylvain yells, "but this is my fight!" He jabs the lance at Miklan's head, and it just barely misses- but Sylvain's eyes narrow in realization. If Miklan were not wearing the heavy, clunky armor, then he would be able to dodge further.

Sylvain digs the heels of his boots into his horse's side, and Miklan's eyes widen, just barely dodging a fate of being trampled.

"Coward!" Miklan screams. "Fight me as equals, as infantry!"

Byleth can practically feel Sylvain's ugly laugh churn his insides. "We've always been equals. You're the one who has been refusing to see it!"

He punctuates the last word with a jab to Miklan's throat, and this time Miklan is unable to dodge completely- and the blow connects with Miklan's cheek. He howls in pain.

Miklan jumps back, wiping the blood from his face with the back of his hand. "Not bad for your kind," Miklan mocks, and Byleth's eyes widen in recognition. These were the words he had said before he transformed. "A bunch of spoiled, rotten children."

As if on cue, the Lance of Ruin pulses with energy, adamant on consuming Miklan.

"Run," Byleth urges his students, but they're all busy staring. "Run!"

After a second yell, they seem to snap out of their trances. Ferdinand, Lysithea, and Gilbert look confused, but they still follow. Sylvain urges Gilbert onto his horse.

"Professor," Ferdinand begins, but he shakes his head. 

"Please, not now! Just- clear the way!"

"Professor!" Linhardt yells, and the volume of his voice is so startling that Byleth turns and looks at him. "Is he transforming here?!"

"Yes, that's quite clear, Linhardt!" Sothis exclaims, face flushing with indignation.

Linhardt swallows. "Professor, this isn't a large area like the Holy Mausoleum! The walls are going to break!"

Byleth nearly curses aloud. That's right. In his past life, when Miklan had approached them, they forced him into a corner- or more specifically, a large room at the top of the tower, where Miklan proceeded to transform.

The black beast would hardly be able to fit in these corridors without destroying everything in its path.

Over the cacophony of Miklan's pained screaming, Byleth yells. "Just go! Go, now!"

He risks a look behind him to see the beast already taking form, the bandits, still stunned, watching the transformation. Some of them have already realized the severity of the situation and bolt- keeping pace with Byleth and the Blue Lions.

Miklan seems to pulse and pound and crawl until he takes shape into the black beast. It howls, sending a chill down Byleth's spine. Standing on its hind legs, it picks up an unfortunate bandit and throws them into the walls.

Byleth, still running towards the staircase, watches the black beast trample the bandits that didn't flee.

And then it turns to them.

"Go!" Byleth screams, louder now, and he can distantly hear his students scream as the black beast charges them on all fours, weight enough to break through some of the floor and wild enough to break the walls as it runs, uncaring of the rampage.

If they were in that large room, Byleth would be confident that they could fight it, but the tower has already begun to fall around them. The beast, aggravating the old tower, has already toppled a few walls and destroyed part of the floor. As expected, the tower seems to groan with the stress.

The Blue Lions round the corner, skidding as they run. It's only gaining on them, and the corridors are only becoming thinner. Byleth thinks about using a Divine Pulse, but he wants to see the outcome of this first. 

Every crush of brick behind them only seems to get closer and closer.

The black beast, running at full speed, tries to run around the corner to catch them- but it seems to have overestimated its speed. Trying to keep a grip on the floors is difficult when they're already covered in rainwater, so the beast skids, and instead of turning the corner, it slams into the tower walls and nearly falls out of the hole it has created with its weight.

It roars, barely catching the edge, drooling and huffing. The beast's claws dig into the stone, holding on for dear life. It is strong enough to pull itself back up.

Byleth won't miss this chance.

He runs back to the beast, ignoring the calls of his students. Sword of the Creator in hand, he cuts through the barrier and in one large swing- cuts off the limb holding it to the tower.

Roaring, the black beast falls to the ground below.

Byleth turns back around to his students, who are all staring at him with wide eyes. "The tower may fall any minute now," he informs them. "We have to go."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Felix says, and dashes to the staircase. A beat later, the rest of the students follow, Byleth close behind.

.

Thankfully, they make it safely below. Sylvain immediately urges his horse to his brother's side when he finds him- no longer a beast, but his brother. The Blue Lions follow.

Hurriedly, Sylvain leaps off of his horse, kneeling next to the body, and presses a hand to his brother's pulse points. "Miklan's dead," Sylvain says, and it comes out as a breath.

He scoffs. "Look at him. Holding onto the Lance of Ruin until he died," Sylvain murmurs, and no one points out how his voice wobbles.

Sylvain takes the lance from his brother's hands with ease, and laughs spitefully. His eyes are slightly wide. "Guess not. I guess even he will let it go easily in death."

No one says a word over the pouring rain.

Byleth steps forward, and kneels next to the body. The dirt is soft from the rain. Taking off his new gloves and his ring, Byleth begins to dig a hole with his fingers.

"Woah!" Sylvain exclaims. "Listen, professor, you don't have to do this for-"

"I can do as I please," Byleth replies evenly, digging despite the rain and the sludge underneath his fingernails.

Ingrid steps forward, kneeling next to him. "It'll be easier with two people," she says calmly, taking off her own gloves and beginning to help.

Dimitri immediately joins after that, and with a scoff, so does Felix. The rest of the Blue Lions quickly kneel and decide to help, peeling back their gloves and digging quickly.

Sylvain takes a huge, shuddering breath, then kneels next to them. "If we don't hurry," Sylvain begins, "the hole will fill up with rainwater." His voice is shaking as he puts down the lance.

It's a shallow grave, and the bottom of it is lined with water, but they lower Miklan into the grave anyway and throw the dirt they just dug out over him. Byleth picks up his gloves and ring and shoves them into his cloak, not wanting them to be covered in mud.

They stand in silence. 

Felix, Dimitri, and Ingrid have all stepped closer to Sylvain. They're huddled together, miserable and wet from the storm.

With a daunting finality, Sylvain stabs his own lance into the ground next to the buried body, and picks up the Lance of Ruin. He stares up at the sky.

"Let's go?" Sylvain offers, and one by one, they slowly drift from the grave, save for Sylvain and his childhood friends. Byleth realizes that they want some time alone, so he begins to leave, but Sylvain grabs his hand.

"Professor?" Sylvain asks, grip tight on Byleth's hand.

"Yes?" 

"...Thank you. I mean it." 

Byleth nods at him. "You are welcome, Sylvain." Sylvain's hand slips away quietly as Byleth turns to walk away.

Stepping around the grave, Byleth hurries to join the rest of the Blue Lions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DONT WORRY GUYS I HAVEN'T FORGOTTEN ABOUT KOSTAS I JUST THOUGHT THAT IT WOULD BE SO AWKWARD AND ABRUPT TO SHIFT FROM SYLVANGST TO KOSTAS
> 
> phew im so glad this chapter was done. i was struggling with what to do with these fights OKAY YOU KNOW WHAT THAT FUCKIN TALK WITH JERITZA WAS SUPPOSED TO BE AN ACTUAL TALK OVER TEA IT'S ALL FELIX'S FAULT FOR SAYING THAT SHIT HHHHHH GOSH I AM SO BAD AT WRITING FIGHTS AAAAAAA
> 
> oh my god there's so much canon divergence up next im screaming UGH please nintendo drop the dlc before i fuck up more of jeritza's character like fuck man fuck
> 
> thank you so much for reading! ♡
> 
> (psst. my discord lovelies. i haven't forgotten about that linny thing :) )
> 
> byleth/dimitri C+ rank  
byleth/dedue C+ rank  
byleth/felix C+ rank  
byleth/annette C+ rank  
byleth/ingrid C+ rank  
byleth/sylvain B rank  
byleth/mercedes C+ rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt C+ rank
> 
> byleth/caspar C rank  
byleth/flayn C rank  
byleth/ferdinand C rank  
byleth/lysithea C rank  
byleth/cyril C rank
> 
> byleth/jeritza C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/claude C rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea C rank


	14. young love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I GOT MORE LOVELY ART FROM MORE LOVELY PEOPLE AND I STILL DONT KNOW HOW LINKS WORK 
> 
> from the lovely srapsodia, this lovely scene of annette and sylvain making fun of dimi https://srapsodia.tumblr.com/post/188609641984 it's also on twitter!
> 
> and from the lovely alien-doodles, this lovely rendition of the ring scene https://alien-doodles.tumblr.com/post/188240648508/i-just-had-to-draw-this-scene-from-godspeed-by
> 
> thank you guys so much, i cannot believe i didnt see this lovely art earlier, i love you, im so grateful! im also really sorry i still dont know how links work lol djejsjsjskskk   
if you have any art you made for this fic, please let me now on tumblr! i promise i don't bite but i will bawl incoherently in thanks sjsjksksks
> 
> thank you again. like holy fuck i just realized we hit over 2000 kudos holy shit. your support is unreal, and im so grateful and my heart is so full like holy fuck yall i will never stop thanking you. thank you, thank you, thank you.

Off in the distance, Byleth spots Kostas and his men scurrying away frantically, in hopes of not being spotted. 

"Those little snakes!" Sothis declares, pointing a finger at them. "Well? Don't just stand there, Byleth! Go after them!"

_You don't have to tell me twice._

"Ferdinand," Byleth calls out to the boy, not even looking his way, "I will be borrowing your horse for a few moments."

"Okay- Wait, what?" Ferdinand exclaims, looking adorably confused, and then panicked, his face turning white. "Professor, where are you- what are you-?"

Byleth, not even listening anymore, hopes onto Ferdinand's horse with a practiced ease and jerks the reins, heading toward Kostas at top speed.

He can hear the man shrieking as he approaches. Things like 'holy shit' and 'fucking _run_.' He can't say that it doesn't make him feel a little amused.

"Of all things to make you smile," Sothis accuses. "Is this it? Really? You sadist."

_Am not._

"Are too."

_Am not._

"Are too- Hey, careful, you're gonna trample them!"

Byleth yanks at the reins in order to stop the horse, mentally apologizing. Kostas yells, bringing up his arms to preemptively protect his head.

When the horse calms, Byleth points his blade at the man's head. "Hello," Byleth greets.

"Fuck," Kostas snarls. "I thought we bonded?! C'mon man!"

"If we have bonded," Byleth says slowly, "then why are you running?"

"Because you're fucking terrifying, you know that?" Kostas accuses. Byleth blinks slowly. "Why are you acting like you don't know shit? You fuckin' massacred my crew, kicked my ass, then kidnapped me, then your dad nearly cut off lil Kostas, then you killed some fuckin' old man without blinking an eye- like fuck! I respect that you're terrifying, and that you saved my ass, but I respect that from a distance!" 

Byleth tilts his head to one side, contemplative. "Fair."

"Fuck man," Kostas spits. "You're so fucking creepy lookin'. With your blank stare and blank eyes and blank expression... Do you even smile?"

Byleth attempts a grin that feels more like baring his teeth, and Kostas and his men flinch. "Shit. Sorry I asked."

Wiping the rain out of his face, Kostas squares his shoulders. "I was hoping you'd forget about me. Go our separate ways as uh, brothers in arms, maybe share a drink later in years when shit's settled down or something. Whaddya say?"

"I have a favor to ask of you," Byleth says, as if he hadn't heard him. 

Kostas rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I knew it wouldn't be so easy. Go on."

Byleth meets Sothis' eyes for a brief moment, before steeling himself. "I would like for you and your men to be my spies."

"Eh?" Kostas spits. "I thought you were gonna ask us to kill someone or something like that."

At this statement, Byleth cannot help the small quirk of his lips, a deadly curve so sharp the men around him dare not move- lest they be speared upon it. 

Trying to cut the tension, Kostas coughs loudly, still barely heard over the rain. "...Yeah. Stupid of me to assume that. You can do that all on your own, huh. But why spying? And what's in it for me?"

Very, very slowly, Byleth points the Sword of the Creator to Kostas' crotch, and the man seems to pale further, if such a feat is even possible. "Point," Kostas breathes, through clenched teeth.

"I am unable to do recon of my own, you see," Byleth begins, talking slightly louder so he could be heard over the rain, "and there are people that I would like you to look after for me. I would like for you and your men to enter Lord Lonato's ranks. I am sure you know of him. A few men within the ranks of his mercenaries should do the trick- sympathetic church haters, indignant taxpayers- I do not particularly want you to hurt him or anything, but I would like to know what he is up to. And..."

Byleth purses his lips. "If you have enough men, implant some within the Empire among the soldiers and join their ranks. I am not looking for anything in particular save for movement. I do not expect you to suddenly get cozy with the prime minister, or generals of the army, or anything like that. I just want someone on the inside. Little details are fine."

Kostas opens his mouth, but Byleth shakes his head. "It would be best for both of us if you did not know the details."

"This is a really tall fuckin' order," Kostas admits. "I've got about a few dozen more men, but holy shit, dude. I have no fucking clue what you're doing, and honestly, I don't want to know- but holy shit. I'm not sure my dick is worth all this mess."

"I saved your life," Byleth reminds.

"I might still lose it doing all this shit for you," Kostas retorts. "And besides, you nearly killed my ass first."

Byleth can feel Sothis roll her eyes. "I am not asking you do attack them or anything. Nor am I asking you to expose their secrets, or anything. I just want someone there, to let me know of any movement. You are absolutely free to escape if things head south."

"You're a shit negotiator," Kostas replies. "You can't exactly keep an eye on me from the academy, you know that, right?"

Byleth shrugs. "It would not be a hit to my conscience to send the knights of Seiros after you, so that you spend the rest of your life on the run. I also could just kill you all, right here. It would not matter all that much to me. I am simply making an offer."

"What the fuck," one of Kostas' men says.

They stare at each other for a long moment.

To everyone's surprise, Kostas laughs. "Arrogant assholes like you are my favourite," Kostas says. "Whatever you're planning must be a shitshow. Count me in."

.

The storm seems to pass on the way back to the officer's academy. 

Even the mercenaries are dead silent on the road back, a far cry from their usual song and dance. Ingrid has taken the reins of Sylvain's horse, and she, Sylvain, and Dimitri are shoved onto it- despite the fact that there's barely room for all three of them- and Felix walking behind the horse and pretending that he isn't watching over them.

Sylvain has not looked up from his folded hands since they left, nor the Lance of Ruin.

"Ferdinand, Lysithea," Byleth murmurs, when the church is back in sight. "I am sure that you have already figured this out, but you are not to tell anyone about the beast."

"Of course, professor," Ferdinand smiles easily. Byleth cannot look directly at his face. Both he and Ashe have the most blinding smiles.

But Lysithea is not one to easily set a matter aside. "Judging by the way that you're only addressing us," Lysithea offers, "you've all seen a beast of this manner before. Am I wrong?"

"Gosh, this girl..." Sothis trails off. "So direct."

Byleth shrugs. It's not as if he's able to hide this matter from her. "Yes."

"It was in the Holy Mausoleum I bet," Lysithea adds, voice getting louder with excitement. "Us students and common folk weren't allowed near for days. But what could have caused this?"

Despite the fact that Ferdinand seems to have decided not to press the issue, he looks oddly interested in the answer. Two pairs of wide eyes are turned on him, and Byleth turns to avoid their gazes.

"Professor-"

"Byleth."

Byleth nearly heaves a sigh of relief when he sees his father at the gate. He hastens his pace in order to reach his father quicker.

Even the mercenaries seem to burst into a sprint. Jeralt ruffles Byleth's hair aggressively. "Nice work, kiddo," he greets.

"I have yet to say anything about the details of the mission," Byleth says, but leans into the hand anyway.

"Me next!" A mercenary calls, teasing. 

"If you want me to pat your head," Jeralt calls, "then wash your greasy hair for once in your life."

"Does-"

_Yes Sothis, that one has a name as well._

When the Blue Lions don't move, Byleth realizes that he must address them. "...Leave the report to Lady Rhea to me," Byleth says. "Please, go wash yourselves up."

Most of the Blue Lions follow his orders and head right in. However, Ingrid directs Sylvain's horse to ride up next to Byleth, Felix and Dedue following close behind.

"May I help you with anything?" Byleth asks.

Dimitri clears his throat. "Yes, well," Dimitri begins, looking a little shy. He then suddenly sheds any sort of reserved skin and meets Byleth's gaze head on.

Sometimes, Byleth forgets that Dimitri is royalty. Moments like these, where Dimitri looks more like Dima and more like a future king- seem so few and far between, at complete odds with the Dimitri who presents himself as a student and a Dima who wages war against his own thoughts.

"I was wondering why you let Kostas go," Dimitri says, reminding him of their earlier conversation in the tower. "Would you care to explain, professor? You did say that you would tell me."

Sothis swears a colorful string of words while Byleth tries not to visibly panic- swallowing or twitching was out of the question, and Dimitri would absolutely notice.

"I ordered it," Jeralt cuts in, and even Sothis, the goddess herself, is singing his father's praises. "Knight of Seiros business. No need to worry, princeling."

"Ah," Dimitri replies, still not looking convinced. "Well. If that's all, then I trust you both."

The unsure look in Dimitri's eyes says otherwise. He may trust them, but he definitely does not believe that statement fully.

Ingrid nods at them before directing the horse through the gates.

"Thank you," Byleth says, once he's completely sure that they're out of earshot.

Jeralt shrugs. "No problem. If you have any more issues like that, just lay the blame all on me."

"You might be in danger."

"You would be in much more danger than I, kiddo," Jeralt squints. "Don't take this lightly. Tell me all about Kostas later."

"Of course." Byleth nods, and steps away so that the mercenaries can surround his father.

.

"Professor," Rhea smiles at him in greeting. It's an odd sight, seeing her sitting at the desk in the room next to the audience chamber. Byleth wonders if she's ever had bad posture. "The goddess is indeed generous with her divine protection. I have already heard Gilbert's report about what happened. I have said this before, but see to it that you keep what transpired at the tower to yourself."

She stands from the desk, putting her quill down. If Byleth squints his eyes, he can vaguely see a few words- something about orders, and about reconnaissance. Before he can properly examine it, Rhea gestures him with one hand to follow her into the audience chamber.

Byleth does not particularly want to evoke her distrust, so he follows without complaint.

_Can you read that, Sothis?_

She huffs a sigh. "I cannot go too far from you, and not for long," Sothis confesses. "Give me a moment."

Sothis floats off. In the audience chamber, Rhea's voice goes slightly hard. "People would lose faith in the nobles should rumors spread of one using a Relic and transforming into a monster. All regions of Fódlan would fall into chaos. We must avoid that at all costs."

When Byleth doesn't answer, Rhea looks to one side, looking distraught. "His transformation into a black beast was nothing short of divine punishment from the goddess. Punishment for someone arrogant and foolish enough to use a Hero's Relic even though they were unworthy and unqualified."

Byleth nods, even though he's not really hearing the words. At this, Rhea inclines her head. "The church will formally return the lance to House Gautier. If you would..."

Byleth's lips thin out. "I..."

In his past life, he had refused to give the lance to Rhea, making her upset with him. However, Sylvain claimed it for himself, after Rhea ensured that he would not misuse the lance.

He didn't particularly want to make Rhea upset with him, but...

"Ahem, excuse me."

Sylvain walks into the audience chamber, head held high. He looks like nobility. Although Byleth was aware that many of his students were of noble descent, they didn't particularly present themselves in a noble manner before him in their classes, or outside of school. They were simply his students. 

But now...

"Lady Rhea, I am overjoyed and beyond grateful to you for recovering the Relic of my family, House Gautier," Sylvain greets, with a practiced bow. 

Byleth shudders at the formalities. Before coming here, he was simply a mercenary on the road. Bowing and polite speech did not come easy to him, especially he had no use for it in battle. 

Sylvain smiles, and Byleth wonders if Rhea can see that it comes out as more of a grimace. "Now, may I please take that lance?" Sylvain asks, despite the fact that he was holding it. "I have received direct approval from my father to take possession of it."

"As the next head of House Gautier," Rhea says, tone holding great finality, "do you swear that you will never cause such a deplorable incident to transpire?"

"On my family's name... and on my brother's life, I swear it," Sylvain declares.

Rhea sighs softly, eyes on the lance. "Very well. However, I have one condition. You must never allow another to wield this lance. You brother clearly demonstrated what fate awaits those who break that restriction."

"Yes," Sylvain breathes. "I... I will not soon forget."

With this, they are dismissed. As soon as they are free of the audience chamber and Rhea's piercing gaze, Byleth slaps Sylvain on the back.

"OW!" Sylvain shouts, making a few passerby stare. Byleth blinks. "Professor, what the heck was that for?"

Byleth stares at his hand as if it would reveal the secrets of the universe. "I- I am sorry. Did I hit you too hard?"

Sylvain runs his back, groaning aloud. "Yeah, you definitely did! You almost hit as hard as his Highness does!"

"When giving encouragement or support," Byleth begins, almost sheepish, "the mercenaries hug and pat each other on the back."

"You could have, you know, just hugged me!"

"I did not think that you would be the type for unprompted hugs," Byleth says, which makes Sylvain chuckle for some reason.

"I am definitely not," Sylvain confesses, rubbing the back of his head, as if embarrassed about it. "But you can still hug me, if you wanna. I wouldn't mind a hug from you."

Byleth opens his arms encouragingly, Sylvain laughing harder at the gesture. "You're so awkward, but it's kinda cute," Sylvain says, and steps into his embrace. They hug, and Byleth makes sure to pat the boy in a softer manner. Byleth cannot help but notice that Sylvain is trembling.

"I am sorry, Sylvain," Byleth murmurs, into the crook of his neck. He rubs a hand soothingly on his back.

"Me too," Sylvain whispers, and Byleth has to clench his eyes shut when he hears the tiniest break in his words. 

Sylvain detaches himself from the embrace slowly. "Well!" He declares, very obviously trying to shake off his demeanor. "Dimitri is waiting for you, by the way. I believe that he's still in our classroom."

"Okay," Byleth replies, slightly thrown by the change in subject. 

Inexplicably, Sylvain's smile widens. "Oho, wait until he hears what I've just done..."

They part ways, Sylvain to his room, and Byleth to the staircase. As soon as Byleth takes a step down, he can feel Sothis being flung back into his head as if thrown there.

_Sothis, what the-_

"Sorry," Sothis says, wincing a little. "I got distracted. I was trying to see if she would do anything else when you two left. Unfortunately, she was utterly boring! She just stood by the window and looked out of it! Unbelievable!"

_Sothis._

She rolls her eyes. "I know, Byleth. Show a little patience, will you?"

_I am not going to hear that from you of all people._

"Rude!" Sothis declares, but relents. "Actually, the letter was not a letter at all, but a series of notes. I have no idea what the contents were, however. She was writing something about 'Agarthans,' whatever those are. Although I cannot help but think that that word is achingly familiar..."

Byleth hums a little, just now reaching his classroom. _I have never heard of the word either. Perhaps I will ask father about it later._

He opens the door, and Dimitri is standing there, poring over a book. When he spots Byleth, he smiles, putting the book down on a desk. "Is your meeting over, professor?"

There is a sort of tightness around his eyes that make him look troubled. "Are you weary?" Byleth asks, voice soft.

Dimitri's face hardens. "I was just thinking about something. Professor, the possession of Relics and crests have been highly valued in Faerghus since ancient times. It's far from uncommon for someone to lose their ability to lead their house because they don't bear a crest. Just like Miklan."

Byleth thinks he remembers this conversation from his past life, but his memory is horrendous, and he likes talking with Dimitri, so he listens intently. 

"It happened to my uncle as well," Dimitri continues. "The eldest child of the king, and yet he never ascended to the throne. All families that bear crests of the ten elites are very much the same. But House Gautier takes it a step further, and absolutely requires an heir who possesses a crest."

"Why are they so obsessed with it?" Byleth asks, still haunted by the look in Sylvain's eyes.

"To that house," Dimitri explains, hand on his chin, "the power of crests is a necessity, not a luxury. House Gautier hold the most northern territory in the Kingdom, and they have fought with the people to the north for many years. The head of that house is responsible for protecting that territory from fearsome invaders, whom they keep at bay with the power of crests and relics. In exchange for that responsibility, they are granted special privileges within the Kingdom."

Byleth frowns. Even when it was revealed that he had a crest, he had never placed much faith into its power. "Strength is strength," Byleth says simply, "with or without a crest."

At this statement, Dimitri smiles. "You would think that, wouldn't you. I believe the same. Ability cannot be measured by the possession of a crest alone. I believe Margrave Gautier was wrong to disinherit Miklan simply because he did not bear a crest."

Sothis nods along, patting Dimitri's back even if he cannot feel it. "Hear hear," she agrees.

Shaking his head, Dimitri returns to frowning. "Still, there is always a reason for why such customs stand the test of time. Imagine what this world would be like if no one placed any stock in crests... Bloodlines that carry crests would dwindle. The metaphorical blade used to oppose threats would eventually rust."

With a deep sigh, Dimitri runs a hand through his hair. "This same argument has been made time and time again across the years. Both sides are at once right and wrong."

"What do you believe, Dimitri?" Byleth asks, despite knowing the answer. This was a statement he could have never forgotten, even if he tried.

"I believe that those with crests and those without should acknowledge the others' strengths and learn to respect each other based on personal merits," Dimitri says, and Byleth has to hide a smile. "And that doesn't apply only to crests. The same holds true for lineage, race, faith, ideologies..."

Dimitri catches Byleth's eye, and takes a deep breath. He steps into Byleth's personal space, taking one of his hands gently.

"Woah!" Sothis exclaims, and hides her face in her hands. Byleth cannot help but notice her peeking through her fingers. "What is he doing?!"

"If we could just accept each other and make mutual concessions, one step at a time... Perhaps... Who knows if that's even possible." Dimitri closes his eyes, still holding Byleth's hand. He wonders if it's subconscious. "Everyone has something that is unacceptable within them. I certainly do, and I would wager you do as well."

His head tilts down, and Byleth is so close that he can feel Dimitri attempt to slow his breathing. "I wonder which is best, professor... To cut away that which is unacceptable, or to find a way to accept it anyway..."

Byleth shakes his head. "No," Byleth says, and Dimitri's head whips up so fast Byleth worries for his neck, "no, I think it would be unacceptable to cut away that which is unacceptable."

"...What do you mean?"

"You said it yourself just now, that everyone has something within them that they refuse to let see the light. But it is entirely impossible to cut away a part of you. No matter how treacherous, how dark, it is still very much a part of you. You simply must learn to live with it."

"And what if it is something entirely unforgivable?" Dimitri asks, a line of tension in his voice. He's careful not to crush Byleth's hand, but the hand he's using to hold onto the desk has splintered the wood.

Byleth shrugs. "Then you must learn to live with it as well," Byleth says. "Rather than pushing it away, or ignoring it, or attempting to kill it, you must learn that that part of you will always be there. It cannot be solved right away. Nothing can. The only thing capable of forgiving your own great sins is yourself."

Dimitri stares at Byleth with wide blue eyes. "...I see."

Sothis frowns. "I suppose a few words would definitely not be able to sway his ghosts, like you said."

_It's not about swaying,_ Byleth thinks back. _I would just like to help him in any way I can. Only time can heal such wounds. And even then, it may never heal. Not completely, and not at all._

Dimitri seems to be unconsciously rubbing circles onto Byleth's knuckles with a single thumb. It's soothing, so Byleth doesn't comment on it. "I enjoy speaking with you, professor," Dimitri declares. "Truly."

"It is because I do not speak much, right?" Byleth attempts to tease back, although it comes out as deadpan.

"No, no!" Dimitri shakes his head. "Not at all! I just love hearing what you think! Truly, I do!"

"But I really don't speak much-"

"But when you speak, you hold the attention of everyone," Dimitri cuts in, looking so sure of himself that Byleth blinks. "And you are always so careful with your words. You are very insightful, even if you yourself cannot see it. And you listen well. Whenever you listen to me speak, and think over my words, it makes me feel quite special, actually. To hold your attention is more that I could ask for."

"Flatterer."

"No!" Dimitri insists, and only realizes that it's meant to be a tease when Byleth lifts a hand to hide his smile. "...Oh, professor, please, please do not hide your smile from me."

The prince reaches up to take Byleth's hand, and guides it away from his face, pressing Byleth's fingers up against his lips. Dimitri looks up at him from beneath long lashes.

Distantly, Byleth can hear Sothis shrieking.

"...Dimitri?" Byleth breathes out, uncharacteristically nervous. "What are you..."

The door bursts open and Dimitri jumps away, yanking his hands away and bringing them up to his chest. He bites back a yelp. Byleth is just confused. What just happened?

"Hey, teach!" Claude greets, Hilda following close behind him. "How was the mission- oho?"

"Claude," Byleth addresses.

"Claude!" Dimitri hisses.

The boy smiles, and he looks as if he's trying to- unsuccessfully- hide a laugh. "Have we interrupted something?"

Claude wiggles his eyebrows and Byleth fights the urge to sigh. Dedue soon enters the room, looking slightly apologetic.

"I attempted to stop them, your Highness," Dedue says, and then nods at Byleth.

"Stop us?" Claude asks, still grinning. "Whatever could we be interrupting? I just wanted to ask about your mission."

Hilda is just wheezing, leaning on a desk for support. 

"Claude," Dimitri begins, sounding slightly dangerous. 

"That's my name, don't wear it out!"

When Dimitri turns a shade of angry red, Byleth decides that it's time to slip out of the room.

Sothis is practically stomping out of the room. "Just when that idiot was making a move..."

_What?_

"Nothing," Sothis replies, sing-song. She's even started to whistle. Byleth decides not to pry.

.

Byleth wonders how to approach someone and ask where they sleep without being creepy and intrusive.

"The fact that you have to think about it is creepy and intrusive in of itself," Sothis says, a little too pleased with herself.

_Please do not make this more difficult._

Ever since their return, Byleth's been keeping Flayn in his sight. Byleth didn't know when, exactly, she would be kidnapped by the Death Knight, but he wasn't going to risk it. All he remembers was that it took place sometime near the beginning of the month.

He doesn't think he's slept. Even his father has begun to notice, and has enlisted the mercenaries on Flayn watch duty, even if he has not divulged to them why.

Even with the support of his father, Byleth cannot relax. The one time Byleth had spotted Jeritza, the man had practically ran off in the other direction.

Byleth nearly stormed after him, Sword of the Creator in hand. Unfortunately, he was in class, so he couldn't give chase.

"It doesn't seem as though Jeritza will make a move, though," Sothis says softly, "I believe that he would have done so already, correct? Besides, the fact that he's still here is telling enough. And there's no need to find Flayn's room so you can camp outside it. You father has mercenaries looking after her at all times. The more worrying issue is when Cornelia-"

Byleth rubs a hand down his face. _I hope her carriage gets in an accident on its way here._

"Professor?"

"Ah, forgive me Dedue," Byleth replies, busying himself with his tea cup. "I was simply lost in thoughts."

Dedue attempts a smile at him over a cup of Almyran pine. "No, it is my fault for being an inadequate conversationalist."

Byleth and Sothis shake their heads. "No, please, not at all!" Byleth insists. "Dedue, believe me, I am worse than you at speaking!"

"Are we really just going to sit in these bushes and watch them play 'who's worst at talking' over tea?!" Lysithea demands, although she has made no effort to move. "Why have you dragged me over here, anyway?!"

A day or so ago, Byleth had walked into the classroom expecting both Lysithea and Ferdinand to be gone. However, Lysithea was there, in the front row, like nothing had happened. She had even quirked an eyebrow at him, as if daring him to say anything about it. 

So he supposes that Lysithea was an official member of the Blue Lions now. It made him feel somewhat happy- the first few days, Byleth would scan the classroom and still get surprised when he realized that his recruits were not there. Lysithea being added made him feel as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

"Is this what you all have been doing in the bushes? Spying?!" Ferdinand booms. Byleth risks a glance over at him. He looks a mix of scandalized and weirdly excited.

"Shh!" The Blue Lions shush him. Even Cyril has joined in.

"Right! Sorry," Ferdinand declares, still at his regular volume.

Ferdinand, however, did not stay.

Or so he thought, at first.

Byleth assumed that Ferdinand had wordlessly returned to the Black Eagles, and trusted that he would not tell a soul about what transpired at the tower. He seemed like a good man, after all.

And then Byleth happened upon Dimitri and Ferdinand speaking in the hallways.

"-saw you talking with Manuela about officially transferring classes," Dimitri had been saying, looking puzzled. "So why have you not returned to class?"

"I am eagerly awaiting the professor to ask me properly!" Ferdinand had replied, stars in his eyes. "I am sure that he has recognized my worth, but I just want to be sure of it! He will definitely ask me any moment now! I know it!"

Blinded in the face of Ferdinand's excitement, Byleth had 'accidentally' stumbled in onto their conversation and invited him to officially join.

"Professor?"

Byleth snaps out of his thoughts. He feels terrible about neglecting Dedue, so he resolves not to think further on any other matters. "Yes, Dedue?"

"I must thank you," Dedue begins, and before Byleth can ask what for, he continues. "You have introduced so many wonderful people into his Highness' life. And mine as well."

"I didn't do anything in particular," Byleth responds.

Dedue shakes his head. "Professor. Do not belittle yourself. You are bringing many people together, people that make his Highness smile. Including yourself. For this, I thank you. I am glad we met." He runs a hand down the side of Byleth's gift for him, a new watering can, and his eyes crinkle around the edges.

"I am glad we met as well, Dedue," Byleth replies sincerely. In the past, when Dima had told their group that Dedue had passed away protecting him, Byleth had been devastated. His passing had carved a hole within Byleth's chest, unable to be filled. When Dedue eventually reappeared on the bridge, it felt as if his family was back together again. He was and always will be eternally grateful for Dedue, for his support, his strength, and for his mere existence. 

Byleth attempts a smile, and Dedue gives him a smile of his own. It's a little awkward, but Byleth feels warm.

"What do you think," Dedue begins to say, "of his Highness?"

Byleth can hear the bush gasp and giggle. 

"Dedue-" Dimitri begins, but is suddenly silenced by several hands covering his mouth.

Even Sothis looks thrilled at the potential answer. "Well? Go on! Tell us how you truly feel."

_Sothis, you can read my thoughts._

"That is not at all the point!"

Byleth takes a bite of a sugar cookie before he answers. "Dimitri is a compassionate, strong individual with great skill and potential."

Dedue nods along. "Yes. I agree. Any more thoughts?"

_Dimples,_ his mind offers. "I enjoy seeing his smile," Byleth confesses. "It is very pretty. Are you satisfied with my answer?"

The bush chokes.

Dedue nods in response. "Very."

"I enjoy seeing your smile too, Dedue." Byleth adds, finishing the cookie.

"...Thank you," Dedue says quietly, his lips curving.

.

Byleth heads into the training room, intent on searching for Jeritza, and finds Dimitri teaching the orphans swordsmanship instead.

"No, lift your blade a little higher," Dimitri insists, adjusting a boy's grip on the wooden sword. "Yes, that's it. Perfect."

Distracted, Byleth sits down on a stair. He had forgotten that Dimitri had done this during his student years as well as his adult years. 

Sothis settles down next to him. "Are you just going to watch?"

_Yes._

With this statement, Sothis curls up on the stone step. "Alright," she says, yawning. "Wake me once you decide to get going again."

She begins to snore lightly. Byleth chuckles a little, then settles in properly to watch.

With the children, Dimitri is patient when they do not understand, and forgiving even when they whack him with the wooden swords. Byleth cannot help but notice that he's not using any weapon himself, merely dodging their attacks and helping to adjust their stance. He was likely nervous about accidentally hurting the children, if they were to properly spar.

Dimitri ruffles the hair of one of the orphans and Byleth has to blink away the after-image of Dima standing there.

He closes his eyes against the rush of sorrow pouring into his lungs. With Sothis asleep, Byleth only had the company of his own thoughts. 

Sometimes, Byleth misses the Blue Lions. Not the ones from this timeline, but the ones in his previous life. Felix, who would invite him to spar if he so much as thought he felt down, Mercedes, who would know his food preferences without asking, Ashe, who would wordlessly settle down by his side with a book- everyone. _His_ Blue Lions. Byleth misses the nights where Sylvain would challenge him to drinking competitions, where Ingrid would confide in him all his worries, where Annette would sing to him, where he and Dedue would just coexist together silently, needing only the company of each other and their flowers.

Dima, who would brush the hair out of his eyes. Dima, who would trust in his strategies, who would wordlessly have his back in battle. Dima, who had allowed Byleth to remove his eyepatch and touch his scar gently.

Byleth wonders if they're alive.

Byleth wonders if Dedue ever had the courage to ask Ashe to start a restaurant with him. Byleth wonders if Sylvain asked Felix to marry him. Byleth wonders if Ingrid had been knighted. Byleth wonders if Annette and her father had made up, properly. Byleth wonders if Mercedes had stood up to her father, and taken matters into her own hands.

He cannot stop the onslaught of thoughts, now. Byleth wonders if Dima would have asked Byleth, properly, to stay with him. Byleth wonders if Dima is eating properly, if he still likes chamomile. Maybe Dima had already moved on from him. Maybe someone else has touched his scars. Maybe he has a family. He hopes that Dima is well-loved, well cared for. Byleth presses every inch of hope from his chest and head into his prayers and sends them to the sky.

Only now has he realized that he has not allowed himself to mourn until this moment.

"Professor?" 

Byleth's blinks away the memories to see Dimitri approaching. The children have already left. His smile is nearly enough to cast away any lingering thoughts. "Were you watching? Please, feel free to join us next time! I have had difficulty teaching all of them, and would really appreciate your assistance."

"Of course," Byleth agrees easily. He finds that it's quite difficult to say no to Dimitri, in any time. "I am able to offer my help."

"Thank you," Dimitri breathes, still smiling. Byleth cannot stop himself. He reaches out and pokes Dimitri on the cheek, directly atop his dimple. "Professor?"

_Should I use a Divine Pulse._ Byleth thinks desperately.

Dimitri blushes up to his roots. "Professor? What are you doing?"

"Apologies," Byleth says, moving his hand. For some reason, his head is offering him images of when Dimitri had pressed Byleth's fingers to his mouth.

"No need," Dimitri seems to squeak. 

Eager to change the subject, Byleth clears his throat. "I have noticed that you didn't get to spar with the children," Byleth says, a little quieter now. "Would you like to spar with me?"

Dimitri seems to brighten at the notion. Both he and Byleth enjoyed battle, after all. "Of course! Please, do not go easy on me, professor!"

They pick up the practice wooden swords and begin.

Byleth falls into battle with ease, determined not to lose, even in a mock match. They spar back and forth for a few minutes, none of them deciding to take the offensive at first. After a few more moments of this, Byleth decides to retaliate, hoping to pressure Dimitri out of the ring with a few wide swings.

But Dimitri surprises him with his own strength, as always, by being able to push back Byleth's swings without much effort.

"You didn't think that this would be an easy match," Dimitri asks, as their swords collide, "did you? Just because I excel most with lances does not mean that I have not been working on my swordsmanship!"

Dimitri is pushing Byleth back. Because of his crest, no matter the age, Dimitri would always outclass Byleth in raw strength.

Byleth, determined not to let this match go on for too long, ducks and sweeps Dimitri's feet out with his leg. Dimitri hurriedly tries to right himself, but he falls to one knee.

"How dirty, professor," Dimitri teases with a small smile, despite his loss. Byleth's eyes narrow- Dimitri was likely trying to distract him as he planned his next move. "I did not expect you to use-"

Byleth cuts him off by lifting his chin with the tip of the sword. "Yield."

Dimitri gulps, turning pink. He stares up at Byleth for a moment before glancing away. "I- I yield," Dimitri breathes, voice deep from what was most likely exertion.

"Okay," Byleth says, lowering the sword and offering his hand. Dimitri takes it, and allows himself to be pulled up. "That was an excellent spar."

"I won't lose next time," Dimitri declares, still flushed from the match.

Byleth quirks his lips. "Then I shall be looking forward to it." Without prompting, Byleth takes Dimitri's wooden sword and puts both of them back onto a rack.

"Professor?" Dimitri calls out, fidgeting with his hands. He waits for Byleth to turn and look at him before he continues. "I was wondering. Why don't we-"

Someone clears their throat, and both Dimitri and Byleth turn. 

Linhardt steps out from behind a pillar. "Hello."

"H-hello," Dimitri greets, blush only darkening. "How long have you been there?"

Linhardt shrugs in response. "Long enough. I was sent here to tell professor Byleth that captain Jeralt is looking for him. Actually, you too, prince Dimitri. Apparently, that Cornelia woman is close to the academy."

Dimitri loses all of the colour from his face. "I see. Then I should clean myself up before I meet with her... I'll excuse myself now, professor, Linhardt."

He briskly leaves the training grounds, running a hand through his hair. Byleth suppresses a sigh.

_Sothis._

_Sothis... Wake up. Sothis!_

"I'm awake!" Sothis yelled, sitting up from where she was curled up on the steps. 

_Cornelia is coming._

Sothis groans into her hands, but it turns into a yawn halfway through. "Fine. I guess that we must go now. Gosh, let's just run that woman through with our sword, okay?"

_I wish._

Byleth nods at Linhardt. "Thank you for telling me, Linhardt. I should be off now."

"Wait."

Byleth turns back to the boy, who's not looking directly at him. "I have a question for you, professor."

He takes a deep breath. "Professor Byleth," Linhardt calls, voice slightly less deadpan compared to the usual. "That Dima person..."

"Mm?"

"How did you know that you. Well. How were you aware that you cared for him?"

Byleth shrugs. What more harm could he possibly inflict upon whatever image his students have conjured up about him? "He was the one that made me realize that I cared for him. I did not notice at all, until he told me of his own feelings. Why?"

"Did he now." Linhardt sounds faint.

"It was a day just like this one, I think," Byleth smiles faintly at the memory, and then back at Linhardt. "I don't remember most of it. I do believe that is when I started to realize."

"Just like this one," Linhardt echoes, and stares at Byleth, something waging wars behind his eyes. "I see."

Like most things, Byleth does not notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MISS ME WITH THAT PLOT SHIT I WANTED TO WRITE ROMANCE AAAAAAAAAAAAAA
> 
> okay but for real plot next chapter lmaooooo i just wanted some downtime. i hope you really liked the dimitri scenes, i had lots of fun writing them! i actually wanted to leave this chapter on a different note but like i didnt want to take away from the dimi scenes and the linny thing..... FUCKINCOUGHCOUGHPINEHARDTISCOMINGCOUGHCOUGH linny is discovering new things, huh?
> 
> phew im really, really glad y'all liked the last chapter. i struggled with the fights so much lol. did any of you really think mik was gonna survive that? i wonder. SPEAKING OF THINGS I WONDER, ive gotten many a comment saying things like 'oh will you save this character' which makes me lowkey laugh because that's insinuating that yall dont think byleth will stop the war. so my question for you is, if u wanna answer: do you think byleth will stop the war? feel free to answer, or not! i was just curious lol
> 
> OKAY BUT FOR REAL PLOT TIME NEXT. 
> 
> thank you so much for reading! ♡
> 
> byleth/dimitri C+ rank  
byleth/dedue C+ rank  
byleth/felix C+ rank  
byleth/annette C+ rank  
byleth/ingrid C+ rank  
byleth/sylvain B rank  
byleth/mercedes C+ rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt C+ rank  
byleth/ferdinand C rank  
byleth/lysithea C rank  
byleth/cyril C rank
> 
> byleth/caspar C rank  
byleth/flayn C rank
> 
> byleth/jeritza C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/claude C rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea C rank


	15. winds of change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'ALL CRACK ME THE FUCK UP FIRST Y'ALL THINK THAT THE JERITZA FIGHT IS HORNY CODED, THEN THE SWORD CHIN TILT THING..... BRUH Y'ALL MAKE ME LAUGH SO HARD JSJSJSJSKS
> 
> omg im glad that yall liked the ending of the last chapter. i enjoy reading your theories like omg does linny know? is linny pining? is it both????? well. only time will tell, right?
> 
> plot time, baby!

"Why do we have to greet this waste of air," Sothis grumbles, practically stomping towards the gate. Jeralt's already standing there with Seteth, looking downright frosty.

"-I just don't get why we have to be here to greet that woman," Jeralt is saying. Byleth is pleasantly surprised at how his father and Sothis are in sync.

Seteth is frowning at Byleth's father, arms crossed. "She is not simply any woman. She is a respected guest, and we must treat her as such, as well as escort her to the Archbishop."

Jeralt arches a brow. "So I'm guessing Rhea didn't tell you why Cornelia suddenly decided to come either, huh. Come on. You can tell me."

"Th-that's besides the point," sputters Seteth, clearing his throat. His eyes dutifully wander around to find something with which he can change the subject. The man nearly sags with relief once he sees Byleth. "Ah. Professor. I am glad you have made it."

Byleth offers him a nod before turning to his father and shooting him a look that hopefully conveys 'I don't want to be here.' Thankfully, his father is wonderful and gets the memo.

"Don't you have papers to grade right now?" Jeralt offers, as an out. Sothis pumps a fist in victory.

He nods, but before they can wax poetic about papers that don't exist, the gates part, revealing a pink horse-drawn carriage, and a single brown one following close behind. Sothis makes a face.

"Extravagant for someone who represents the Kingdom," Sothis comments, frowning. 

Even Seteth is looking quite perturbed, his forehead wrinkling.

A little confused, Byleth tugs discreetly at his father's sleeves and lifts a brow.

"Ah, that's right, you never cared for politics when I explained them to you," Jeralt says, and Byleth fights a frown. "Listen kiddo, the short story is- if you're representing or are a figurehead of a huge part of a region of Fódlan, aka, the Kingdom, you need to display it. It's common courtesy, something about treaties and peace. Of course, if you're moving incognito, then it's another story. But Cornelia is a respected, known figure of the Kingdom. Even if she's only visiting some other place, there wouldn't be a soul in the Kingdom that didn't know about it."

Byleth nods, but is still a little lost. Sothis sighs when she sees his lost expression. "Think of it like this," Sothis begins to explain, "the Flame Emperor, or Edelgard, wore a mask so as to not associate her actions with the Empire or her people. That was because she likely didn't have the capability or power, at the time, to not implicate her nation. Every action is scrutinized, especially the actions of powerful figureheads. But when she declared war, many of her soldiers flew Empire flags. It's a statement. Of loyalty, of power, of prestige. Think back on the invasion and the results of it upon the church. Flags burned, torn up, destroyed. From someone like Edelgard, desecration of a flag is a declaration of war. Like spitting on a nation itself."

When Byleth doesn't respond save for blinking slowly, Sothis slaps a hand across her forehead. "You never were one for thinking outside of battle, were you? Think of it like a crest that appears in battle, or to heal, or something. It's to describe authority, and powerful lineage."

His father sees his lost face and takes pity on him. "Let's say the carriage was wearing the Faerghus flag," Jeralt offers, "sure, it'd be a huge sign to many bandits who want to make a quick buck and said the carriage- if they don't value their lives. I'll use that little princeling as an example for the carriage rider. Sure, maybe they got lucky and killed or kidnapped him, great, that's cool. Maybe taken some gold or supplies. But then, in order to save and protect their crown prince, or any other high ranking Faerghus noble who could represent Faerghus, the full force of the Kingdom would be upon those poor bastards. News travels fast. What do you think would happen to those bandits? What if they had families? Lovers? It would be a bloodbath, no matter their reasoning, and no matter who actually planned to attack."

There is a pause.

"Like the Tragedy of Duscur," Byleth murmurs, and his father nods.

"Exactly," Jeralt says, softer than usual. "But that's not the point here. Flags exist for a reason, kiddo, and Cornelia ain't showing one off."

Byleth hums in response. "I hate politics," Byleth whispers, and Jeralt laughs so loud it fills his chest with warmth.

"Me too, kiddo. Don't even worry." His father quirks the corner of his mouth, and Byleth wonders if he looks like that to other people when he smiles. Pleasant and charming. Byleth hopes that he's able to present a fraction of that smile.

Sothis is twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "And of all colours to show off," Sothis spits. "Pink. Well, we always did know that she was aligned with the Empire, anyway."

_We don't know that for sure._

"I am quite sure that we do, actually-"

_No,_ Byleth hurriedly thinks back. _She could have her own plans. Perhaps she was with Solon._

The goddess scoffs a little. "Yes, well, I am sure that he was aligned with Edelgard- hm. You know what? You may be correct. Besides, it would be safer to think about this problem at all angles and sides. It's not as if she was the only one that wanted this war."

_That tends to happen, you know. I am right sometimes._

"Do shut up, Byleth!"

The pink carriage finally reaches them, through the parted crowd in the market. A solider, who was directing the horses, walks over to the door of the carriage and pulls it open.

Cornelia steps out.

With an ease that could be called graceful, Seteth offers Cornelia a hand. She smiles at him, none of her teeth showing. "Why, thank you," she simpers, and allows Seteth to help her out of the carriage. 

When she's on solid ground again, Seteth releases her hand and bows slightly at the waist. "Welcome to Garreg Mach monastery," Seteth greets. "The Archbishop is expecting you. It is a pleasure to meet one so brilliant."

"Oh no," Cornelia replies, still smiling. "The pleasure is all mine."

Sothis' face pales. "I am going to throw up," she states, genuinely looking sick.

_Are you okay?_

She opens her mouth to reply, but closes it just as fast, as if she were revising what she was about to say. "Perfectly adequate, thank you. It's just- the sight of her churns my stomach."

_Are my memories of her affecting you that much?_

"_Your memories-_ Yes. Your memories. Of course."

_Sothis, are you-_

"And who is this?" 

Cornelia turns to him so suddenly Byleth nearly jolts. The way she goes about looking at him is creepy as well, as if her head was upon a swivel.

"She's like an ugly owl," Sothis observes, and Byleth bites down on his lip to hide a smile. Unfortunately, Cornelia must take it the wrong way, for her smile only widens. Byleth can see a flash of pearly white teeth.

"Goodness, she's ugly," Sothis says, wincing at her smile. Byleth agrees. Perhaps this sort of smile would be attractive to some, but aware of her deeds, Byleth can only wince.

"Byleth," he greets, barely inclining his head to give her a nod. He ignores the glare he gets from Seteth, likely from being so rude. But absolutely no one could blame him for being curt around this woman.

Now she's practically beaming, and she licks her red lips as if she's just found something about him that was particularly delicious. "I've heard of you. The Ashen Demon, correct? I wonder, just why did they allow someone like you to become a teacher?"

"Well, she's got you there." Sothis says amiably.

Byleth is about to reply with an eloquent shrug, but Seteth, of all people, decides to speak up. "His students look up to him, and he is an excellent instructor- or so the students do say."

"How wonderful," Cornelia says, although her tone says anything but. She folds her hands over her chest, almost reverent. "I am aware that your academy produces talented and brilliant individuals. Come here, Monica!"

"What?" Sothis demands. "No way. No- way..."

From the closest brown carriage, a girl with fiery red hair descends. Her smile is wicked. Byleth knows this smile. It's flayed open his nightmares and ruined his life. He once fantasized about cutting that grin from her face.

It's a good thing Byleth has lost his voice very suddenly, otherwise he would scream absolute murder.

"My maid, Monica," Cornelia introduces. Monica does a little curtsey.

"Great to be back!" Monica declares, puffing out her chest. "It's been awhile!"

"Monica?" Seteth demands, sounding incredulous. "You're alive? I am... glad to see it, but- How?"

Monica waves his questions away with a hand. "Well, I was kidnapped, but the lovely Lady Cornelia saved me!"

_ **Bullshit.** _

He can see her mouth move, see her gesture animatedly with her hands, but he cannot hear a single thing.

Byleth can hear a pin drop, can feel his heart drop into his stomach, can feel rage bubble and boil over his insides until he is no longer Byleth but the Ashen Demon, a mere vessel for his anger and vengeance and pent up, disastrous wrath.

"-heard so much about you! The Ashen Demon, and the Blade Breaker-"

The Sword of the Creator hums when it is called to his hand. He can see only red when Monica addresses his father, how dare she, how dare-

Kronya falls silent when the sword is brought to her throat. Distantly, he can hear Sothis screaming, hear his father calling his name, but he can only see the the pale curve of her neck.

"_**How dare you,**_" Byleth says, and separates her worthless head from her shoulders in one fell swing of his sword, hand guided by rage. "Know that you will be worth more dead compared to alive, you scum."

The world turns dark.

Byleth is dropped unceremoniously into the Holy Tomb, feeling the uncomfortable vertigo of a Divine Pulse thrumming through his marrow.

Sothis is watching him carefully, assessing him. Byleth cannot blame her. Her fists are clenched in her dress. He takes a few deep breaths before speaking.

"I should not have done that," Byleth begins, cautiously.

"And?"

"I won't kill anyone important without prior discussion."

"And?"

Byleth stares at Sothis, frowning. "I will not apologize for killing her, if that's what you desire."

Sothis waves an impatient hand. "I wouldn't expect you to," Sothis replies, sighing. "Besides, I already forced you to use a Divine Pulse. She's still alive right now. We cannot kill her properly just yet. Is it out of your system yet?"

Byleth blinks away the after image of a rainy day. "Never," Byleth responds. 

She nods at him. "Good. Do not forget that feeling, Byleth. It is one of the reasons you are here. You can make sure that she never harms anyone again. It's better that's she's here, rather than out of sight somewhere else."

Byleth forces down a rush of fiery anger. "I despise feeling," Byleth forces out. "I cannot bear the sight of her. Is this what Dima felt?"

Sothis tilts her head to one side. "Everyone suffers differently," Sothis says. "Everyone grieves in a different manner when they have lost those they love."

"Even you?"

The smile that appears on her lips is a tiny one, laced with sorrow. "Even me."

Something about that statement is ringing bells in Byleth's head, but he forces it aside. "If Cornelia and Monica are working together, I am assuming that Cornelia is also not really Cornelia. Perhaps she is someone masquerading as her, the way Kronya is for Monica. But why? And how?"

"Very good observation," Sothis says, eyes widening. "I thought that I may have to point it out!"

Byleth resists the urge to sigh. He doesn't miss the fact that Sothis is avoiding his questions. "What now?"

"Now? Now, we will return back to the regular flow of time, and if you are to kill Monica again, you have twelve Divine Pulses left." 

That statement makes Byleth chuckle a little. He blinks, and when he opens his eyes, he's back at the gates, and Dimitri is jogging slightly to them off in the distance, Dedue following close behind. Monica has stepped behind Lady Cornelia, head still attached to her body, the very picture of a subservient maid. Byleth cannot look directly at her. Seteth is speaking to Cornelia, something about Rhea.

Jeralt is staring at him, with a raised eyebrow. Byleth arches one of his own in return, but his father shakes his head. He's about to say something when Dimitri finally reaches them.

"Forgive my tardiness," Dimitri greets, nodding first at Byleth and his father before bowing a little to Cornelia and Seteth. "It has been awhile, Lady Cornelia."

"Prince Dimitri," Cornelia greets, barely nodding at him. Even Byleth can notice the tension radiating off of the two of them. Dedue is frowning at the bland greeting. "Why have you not told me in your letters about your professor?"

"I had no idea that you're reading my letters to my uncle," Dimitri says, a little pointedly. Cornelia's eyes narrow, imperceptibly. "Besides, we only talk business. And I had no idea that you have employed a new maid."

"I am Monica," she greets, with a more subdued curtsey. Monica bats her eyes a little at him, and out of the corner of his eye, Byleth can see Sothis gag.

Dimitri only nods at her with a small smile, before returning his attention to Cornelia. "You've never shown an interest in maids before," Dimitri continues.

"You know me," Cornelia replies sweetly. "I must always aid the miserable, unfortunate creatures of this land, and she needed a place to stay."

Jeralt and Byleth share a look, and his father mouths the word 'creatures' at him with an incredulous expression. 

"So of course you made her your maid," Dimitri declares sarcastically. Byleth is kind of surprised. In his past life, Byleth understood why there was tension between the two, but right now he wasn't sure as to why there was tension between them. He's also surprised that Dimitri is using that sort of tone. He's only heard it a few times, all of his lives combined.

Cornelia tilts her chin up, haughty as ever. "Of course I did." She must be eager to change the subject and escape Dimitri's clever gaze, for she turns to Byleth again. He nearly grumbles aloud.

Her gaze is awful. She's looking at him up and down, eyes carefully assessing. Byleth feels as if he must spend a few hours scrubbing himself down to remove her leer. "...What is it?" He forces himself to ask, before Sothis can really vomit with all of the fake gagging she's doing.

Cornelia steps into his personal space, and Byleth wants to step back. Far away. Perhaps on the other side of Fódlan. She reaches up to his face with a slender hand.

"You are quite handsome," Cornelia admits, a long, manicured nail to his chin.

"Excuse me?!" Sothis demands, trying her best to shove her way between them.

"Pardon?" His father asks, sounding as if he cannot quite believe the words coming from her mouth.

"_Hngh-guh!?_" Dimitri sputters. Byleth can absolutely relate.

Seteth clears his throat. "Well. I hate to break this moment up, but I must insist that I lead you to your rooms now. Please, follow me." He walks off without looking behind him.

Cornelia drags her nail lightly up his chin, forcing him to tilt his head up, and then steps away. "I do hope we can meet again soon," Cornelia says, a lilt in her voice even Byleth can detect.

She joins Seteth, and Monica follows her, only a few steps behind.

Sothis lifts her hand in a vulgar gesture. Byleth sort of wants to as well.

"What the hell," Jeralt states, hand on his hip. "She was so... ugh. I hate that she touched you like that."

"I know," Byleth murmurs back, hand rubbing at his chin.

Dimitri turns to him, eyes wide. "I am sure that she didn't really mean anything by it, professor," he attempts to reassure.

Byleth tilts his head to one side. "So I am not handsome?"

The prince turns so red, so quickly, it's almost comical. "_No!_ No, how could I ever imply that?! You are the most- I mean, look at you, I-"

"Dimitri, I am joking," Byleth tries to soothe. He doesn't know why both his father and Sothis are laughing. Even Dedue puffs out a little laugh. "It is alright."

"Yes," Dimitri immediately says, "yes, well, I wanted you to know that I don't think that you are anything less than handsome. Mesmerizing, as well."

"That's very kind of you," Byleth responds, when Dimitri seems to have regained his composure. "I too, think you are handsome."

The prince freezes in place, face still steaming hot. He's so still, Byleth wonders if he's breathing. Byleth almost wants to wave a hand in front of his face. "Dimitri?"

"Byleth one, Dimitri zero," Sothis wheezes, still cackling.

"He's alright," Dedue cuts in. "I don't think he has ever been more alright, professor. Do not worry."

Perhaps Byleth really should brush up on his social skills, if he always feels left out of the loop like this.

.

Byleth cannot relax.

First, Cornelia and Monica are here, and he has no idea why or what they're planning. He's assuming that they're teamed up with Edelgard, and by extension, Jeritza. But he hasn't seen the man in days. He knows he's here, Felix has told him that they train together occasionally- but he always leaves before Byleth can even catch a glimpse of the man.

Byleth considers bursting down the door to his room, but decides to do it as a last resort.

Besides, Cornelia seems to be a bigger problem right now. Because the mercenaries have been shadowing Flayn, Byleth is aware that she's been following the girl around for awhile. She's never approached her properly, and never struck up a conversation- but she is always near. And where Cornelia is, Monica follows. Even Seteth has taken notice.

And she's not the only one Cornelia seems to be keeping tabs on.

"I was instructed to pass this to you," Gilbert says, waving a white note around. Sometimes Byleth forgets that Gilbert knows Cornelia. "From Lady Cornelia." It's lightly perfumed with something that smells like roses. Sothis pretends to gag.

"Thank you," Byleth says, taking the note off of his hands and folding it open. 

_Allow me the honour of inviting you to tea, handsome._

Byleth hands the note back to Gilbert. "I can't read," Byleth says, voice as dry as a desert.

Gilbert does a double take. Before he can misunderstand the situation some more, Byleth escapes the situation by running in the other direction.

Sothis is slow clapping. "Smooth."

Byleth has instructed the mercenaries to keep a closer eye on Flayn. He trusts them, but there's only so much he can do, and he doesn't want them to die if the Death Knight finally decides to make a move or if Cornelia does something. He cannot relax at all.

Even the presence of his Blue Lions cannot offset his anxiety.

"Let's begin the first official meeting of the book club!" Ashe declares, beaming wide at all of them.

They're sitting in a circle in the library, Byleth a little off to the side. He's pleasantly surprised at the turnout. Ashe is here, of course, as well as Ingrid and Felix, who was dragged in by the ear and hasn't stopped grumbling, yet made no effort to move. Lysithea and Cyril are here too, already sharing a book, and Linhardt is present as well, despite the fact that the boy was half asleep. Ferdinand is here as well, sitting up straight in his chair and grinning. Byleth can see that his own book is filled with little notes and dog-eared pages.

"Is everyone here?" Ashe asks, voice still bright.

"Sylvain's coming, I think," Ingrid says. "Dimitri and Dedue wanted to come. They send their apologies. Mercedes is baking and can't be away from the food for too long, she said that she'll bring cookies. Annette is helping her."

As if on cue, the door bursts open to reveal Sylvain... and a scared looking Bernadetta, as well as Lorenz, of all people.

"I'm here!" Sylvain calls, plopping down in an empty seat next to Felix, throwing his arm around the back of his chair. Felix pushes it off, but Sylvain effortlessly props it back up. Felix sighs and gives up. "And I brought more friends!"

Lorenz lets out a dramatic sigh. "I am only here because I am curious about this club," Lorenz says, with an arrogant air. Byleth still smiles at the sight of him. The last time he had seen him was- 

Byleth shakes his head to dislodge the memory. He cannot think about it right now. What matters was that Lorenz was still here, and still breathing.

Lorenz sits next to Byleth and folds a slender leg over the other. When Byleth notices that his own book is dog-eared, Byleth hides a smile.

Bernadetta is still standing in the doorway, clinging to the wall as if needing it for support. "It's okay, Bernie," Byleth can hear her saying. "Everything is fine. We're just reading. No one is going to make fun of you. Everything is fine and dandy!"

"What are you doing, still standing in the doorway, Bernadetta?" Sylvain calls, and she lets out a little squeak. 

Ingrid smiles at her, then turns to Sylvain. "You didn't force her to come, did you?"

"Of course not!" Sylvain says, looking scandalized. "I just asked her to come! She's such an amazing writer, after all, I wanted to know her thoughts on this book!"

"She writes?" Lysithea asks, looking somewhat amazed. "That's incredible!"

Bernadetta slams the door of the library shut.

"Look what you've done, Sylvain," Ingrid scolds.

"Hey, it wasn't me!"

Byleth stands from his chair, and walks towards the door. He pulls it open to reveal Bernadetta crouching on the floor in front of the door, head in her hands. She's mumbling something.

"Bernadetta?" Byleth inquires.

The girl jumps a foot in the air. "AAAAAA!!!"

Byleth, the master of blank faces, is incredulous. He's never had her in his class before, and doesn't know how to act around her. 

The last time he saw her, she was a crumpled figure on the battlefield, flames licking at her calves. He could not believe that Edelgard had actually planned to set fire to the middle grounds of Grondor from the beginning, and stationed Bernadetta there...

Byleth closes his eyes and attempts to banish the memory. "Hello. I did not mean to scare you. I apologize."

"I-It's fine!" Bernadetta replies, still shaking so hard Byleth can practically feel it.

"Would you like to join this meeting of the book club?" Byleth asks patiently.

Bernadetta gulps. "I'm not... Not good with strangers."

"You do not have to force yourself," Byleth says gently. He feels as if he's speaking to his flowers, or perhaps the animals on the school grounds that startle easily.

Bernadetta stares at him for a long moment.

"CAN I-" Bernadetta clears her throat, looking embarrassed at her volume. "Can I sit behind you? Please? You're kind of scary, but in a good way! No one will cross me if I'm with you!"

Sothis chokes on a laugh she was trying not to let escape. Byleth can say with confidence that in both lives, no one has ever called him scary in a good way.

They walk back inside the library, Byleth narrowing his eyes at any of the students that look at Bernadetta too long. He didn't want her to run away again.

Ashe clears his throat when Bernadetta pulls up a chair behind Byleth and hides behind his back. "Alright then! Let's discuss our thoughts on the Moon Knight's Tale. Felix, would you care to start us off?"

A rise of laughter emerges from the students. "Why me?" Felix groans. "I barely read the thing. The fights were so unrealistic-"

"So you did read it," Lysithea drawls. Felix glares at her, heat rising to his cheeks.

"Only to see if the fights would get better," he hastily defends. "Look, I'm just saying, no one can pull off maneuvers like that."

"Not even you?" Sylvain teases. Felix whacks at his arm, but takes a deep breath and begins to explain.

The rest of the book club meeting passes normally. It's quite amusing, actually, to see his students getting worked up about a novel. He has not read Moon Knight's Tale, but he appreciates their passion for the story. He's proud to see even Cyril sharing his opinion, even when he had only learned how to read just recently. Even Linhardt has designed to offer his opinions- only when he believes someone is totally wrong about theirs, which leads to a battle of words between him, Lysithea, and Lorenz. Ferdinand is only getting louder. When Byleth believes he knows enough about the story to add his own opinions, Dedue and Dimitri burst into the room.

"Professor," Dedue calls, looking distraught. "May I speak with you for a moment?"

Byleth nods, standing from his seat. Bernadetta squeals when her cover is blown, and frantically looks around for somewhere to hide, deciding on the table.

"Please," Byleth tells them, "carry on." He steps out into the hallway with Dedue and Dimitri and shuts the door firmly. Before speaking, he glances left and right to make sure no one was listening, then nods.

"I have a favor to ask," Dedue says. He glances at Dimitri for support. Dimitri nods at him.

"Dedue is already aware," Dimitri begins, "but you should know there's been an uprising in the Duscur region, in the western part of the Kingdom."

Byleth purses his lips. He remembers this. He didn't think much of it back then, but is eternally grateful for it now- the Duscurian people whom they have saved from the soldiers saved Dedue from certain death in his time of need. This was important, just in case such a situation occurred again.

But Flayn... 

Byleth shakes his head. He would much rather potentially ensure Dedue's life, over a kidnapping. Besides, he would leave the most of the mercenaries behind, and his father would be here as well. 

He listens to Dedue explain the situation alongside a few additions from Dimitri, nodding along. "Alright," Byleth says. "Shall we leave soon?"

Both Dimitri and Dedue shoot him wide eyed looks, which only confuse Byleth. "Were you not asking for my aid?"

Dedue blinks rapidly. "I- Well. I did not believe that you would easily agree. Nor I did I expect you to offer before I."

"I would gladly lend my aid to any of you," Byleth says, offering a tiny smile. He's recently been working on his expressions, with Sothis' help.

"You have my most sincere gratitude," Dedue says, bowing low.

"And mine as well," Dimitri adds, the tiniest curve to his lips. "But we must move fast. I will go and alert the others... as well as apologize for interrupting book club."

The Blue Lions, after direction from Dimitri, quickly stumble out of the library to prepare themselves. Byleth takes this time to inform his father of where they're going, and he assures Byleth that he'll watch over Flayn in his absence.

When Byleth tells Cyril that he must stay behind this time as well, he does not complain, merely nodding his head.

Surprisingly, they move with haste and arrive on the battlefield as soon as the Kingdom's vanguard does. 

"We cannot stand by and allow another massacre," Dedue says, eyes closed. He's searching the people of Duscur on the field, as if trying to find people he used to know. Byleth turns away. "But we cannot obstruct the Faerghus army, either. Our best hope is to force the troops of Duscur to withdraw before the Kingdom soldiers get to them."

Dimitri's eyes narrow on a point of the battlefield. "The main body of the Kingdom's army is bound to arrive soon. Until then, let's aim to quell this uprising ourselves. Once the main force arrives, we will be out of options. We must move fast."

The battle is over quickly. Byleth knows this fight like the back of his hand, as well as the terrain and the movements of the soldiers. He sends Sylvain and Ferdinand out on their horses to hurry and help the furthest Duscurian soldiers, as well as Ingrid, who has just recently learned how to ride a pegasus. 

They all hurriedly escort them off of the field and out of sight. Dimitri in particular keeps his head down, lest he is recognized by any soldiers.

It ends quickly, and without bloodshed. No Divine Pulse needed. Byleth sighs in relief, but almost squeaks when Byleth is pulled into a bush by Sylvain. 

"Sylvain," Byleth begins, but then realizes that the rest of the Blue Lions, save for Dedue, are in the bush. Sylvain lifts a finger to his lips. "Ah. We're spying."

Dedue is speaking with the Duscurian general. "...will not abide the needless death of my own people."

"You must know that as long as there is breath in me," the general is saying, "that I will fight."

"Then fight, and be defeated," Dedue retorts seriously. He looks more solemn than usual. "But so long as you pose no threat to His Highness, I will not end your life."

"Idealistic fool," the man spits, folding his arms across his chest. "Not until we've taken back the homeland you monsters stole from us!"

"I can't hear them clearly...!" Lysithea hisses. A ring of shushing fills the air.

"...promised the people of Duscur a home," Dedue continues, holding his chin up high. "His will be a Kingdom that is proud to harbor the blood of both Faerghus and Duscur."

Dimitri, in the bush with them, squares his shoulders and straightens his spine. He looks honored.

The general shakes his head. "That's impossible."

"Believe what you will," Dedue says, sounding almost proud now, "but Faerghus will change under his reign. That is my firm belief."

Dimitri emerges from the bushes, completely pretending that he wasn't hiding in them. "The Kingdom army has retreated to the fortress," Dimitri says. "There should be no further danger.

"Prince of Faerghus!" The general scoffs. His hands seem to twitch for his axe. "You monster!"

Ignoring the comment entirely, Dimitri regards the man. "Can you still run? Then I suggest you do so now. Your people are waiting for you on the other side. Remain hidden from the Kingdom army."

For a moment, no one speaks. Then Dedue nods. "May our paths cross again."

Turning away, the general's tone becomes more serious. "I certainly hope not. But remember this... The people of Duscur never forget their grudges. Nor do they fail to honor favors."

When the two are sure that the general has fled for safety, Dedue turns to Dimitri and bows. "Thank you, your Highness, for fulfilling my selfish request."

The prince shakes his head. "Think nothing of it. This is something I wanted to do as well. If you really must give thanks, direct it at the church for allowing us to join the battle, and to our professor for leading the charge." 

Dimitri pats the other boy on the back. "It's about time we headed back. The professor and the others are waiting."

Dedue smiles at Dimitri kindly. "I am right behind you." Byleth takes this opportunity to tip toe out of the bush, but Dedue spots him immediately. "Ah, professor. Were you spying?"

For some reason, this makes him extremely embarrassed.

.

_Tonight's the night I find Flayn's room._

"Please," Sothis is practically begging him. "Please learn how to phrase things properly. You sound so unbelievably creepy, it is unbearable."

_How else am I supposed to say it?_ Byleth demands. Sothis shrugs, noncommittal.

He steps out his door and practically trips over Linhardt, who has propped himself outside of Byleth's door with a blanket and a pillow.

"No," Sothis says. "No. No no no. Why is it always Linhardt?! This is unbelievable! Has he just been camping out here, waiting for you?"

Linhardt yawns, lifting a hand in greeting. Before the boy can say anything, Byleth steps around his body and keeps walking, intent on finding Flayn's room without interruption. He can hear the boy frantically gather his things and speed walk after him.

"Please wait for me, professor," Linhardt calls out, finally reaching him. "You are completely aware that I am incapable of running."

Sothis' eyes sparkle. "Run."

_Sothis._

She groans. "Byleth, what if something goes wrong? Linhardt should not be there, what if he is injured?"

_...You're right. It is simply tedious to keep asking him._

"Linhardt-"

"Are we going to that area again today, professor?" Linhardt asks, sounding slightly more animated. "You did promise, and you have yet to take me again. I have dozens of new theories."

Byleth shakes his head. "No. So you should head back to your room-"

"I think not," Linhardt cuts in, a small smile on his face. "Besides, everything is much more exciting when I'm with you. You really are such an intriguing person, professor. You tolerate my crest speeches, my naps, my presence... There are few people around me like you."

Now Byleth just feels bad. _Sothis._

"No."

_I-_

"No, send him back now, you absolute pushover."

Byleth doesn't realize they've been walking toward the cathedral before they reach it. Well, he was intending on exploring the areas past the gates, anyway, but he doesn't want to make much noise in the middle of the night. So he settles for exploring the areas accessible through the cathedral.

"Are we going back to the Holy Mausoleum?" Linhardt asks, and his voice echoes in the chapel. Byleth winces. 

"No," Byleth says, "there's a room I have always been curious about right next to the Goddess Tower." It wouldn't hurt to explain, if Linhardt was hell bent on following him anyway. He was hoping that it was Flayn's room, because raising the gates around the chapel in order to check what was past them would be way too much noise and would instantly alert the guards.

"Are we breaking in?" 

Byleth doesn't answer.

For some reason, Linhardt seems even more intrigued now. "Incredible. Let's do it."

They reach the door near the Goddess Tower without much fanfare. Byleth sighs in relief, and procures a set of hair pins from his cloak.

"You came prepared," Linhardt comments, sounding impressed. 

Byleth shakes his head. "Not at all. I always have these on my person."

"To gift to your students?" Linhardt asks.

"To break into places. A useful skill, as a mercenary," Byleth explains, kneeling so he could pick the lock quicker.

A click.

Byleth tests the knob.

It opens easily.

Linhardt's eyes widen, imperceptibly. "You're quite good at this," Linhardt comments, and is about to step past him into the door, but Byleth shoves him behind his body, just in case.

Byleth peers in cautiously, hand on the hilt of his sword.

It's a bedroom. There's a large bed in the middle of a room, propped against the back wall, and no windows. Several bookshelves line the walls, and various books for children are strewn across the floor. A few fishing rods are propped up unceremoniously against the wall.

In the middle of the bed, Flayn's green hair pops up from underneath the blanket. Byleth sighs. 

"First try," Sothis says, sounding impressed. Byleth also wants to pat himself on the back. It was trial and error looking for the right corridors where the dungeons were.

When Byleth hasn't said a word, Linhardt pushes past him and stumbles into the room, sighing. "It's just a bedroom," Linhardt whispers, sounding disappointed. "Let's get out of here." 

Sothis has taken this opportunity to read every title of the books lining the shelves.

Satisfied now that he knows where Flayn's bedroom is, Byleth nods in agreement.

He sees Linhardt's eyes widen. "Professor-!"

Byleth feels a sharp pain in the back of his neck. He struggles against the wave of drowsiness that washes over him, but it brings him to his knees, and he slumps to the floor, hand twitching uselessly around the Sword of the Creator. His eyes dart around the room- he can see a blurry pair of legs, and the distorted figure of Sothis, trying to shake him. Linhardt has been subdued by something, and has joined him on the floor, eyes wildly searching the room. He can see that Flayn has finally woken up, jolting up in bed, eyes wide, mouth outstretched in a scream. The last thing he sees is Linhardt and Sothis mouthing his name before he blacks out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLOT TIME BABY DUN DUN DUN
> 
> WHAT'S GON HAPPEN TO BYLETH? LINNY? FLAYN? FIND OUT NEXT TIME ON DRAGON BALL Z!
> 
> i wanted to call this chapter cornelia choke challenge LMAOOOOO 
> 
> and with this chapter, we have hit 100k words! holy fucking shit is this real life? is this allowed? am i alive????? bruhhhhh i could not have done this without you thank you so so much from the bottom of my heart.
> 
> okay im really fuckign tired so ill answer your comments from last week's chapter later. holy fuck y'all really go wild with romance chapters i was fucking blown away by the support again thank you so so much 
> 
> PLOT NEXT CHAPTER TOO BABY WE GOING IN I CANNOT WAIT TO WRITE IT 
> 
> thank you so much for reading! ♡
> 
> byleth/dimitri C+ rank  
byleth/dedue C+ rank  
byleth/felix C+ rank  
byleth/annette C+ rank  
byleth/ingrid C+ rank  
byleth/sylvain B rank  
byleth/mercedes C+ rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt C+ rank  
byleth/ferdinand C rank  
byleth/lysithea C rank  
byleth/cyril C rank
> 
> byleth/caspar C rank  
byleth/flayn C rank
> 
> byleth/jeritza C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/claude C rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea C rank


	16. steady the sword

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: okay so ive got some things planned out now phew time to relax!  
jeritza, whatever the hell the abyss is, the looming threat of characters on the horizon: hi
> 
> OKAY Y'ALL LET'S TALK DLC  
okay first and foremost im happy jeritza said bi rights, but like holy fuck did he only have to get 2 supports???? i was hoping for at least edel omgggg AND THAT'S NOT NEARLY AS BAD AS HOW ANNA GOT A WHOPPING ZERO okay. jeritza's dlc, i can absolutely work with. i probably will not add anna into the blue lions because it absolutely makes no sense to my story lol. perhaps she'll appear but definitely not as a student. 
> 
> aNd OH MY GOD, THE ABYSS. WHAT THE HELL IS THAT? SEE, IF IT WERE JUST SOME RANDOM FUCKIN DLC THING, I WOULD LIVE WITH IT. BUT LIKE. FUCKING RANDOM ASS NPCS KNOW ALL ABOUT IT??? LIKE RANDOM ASS MONKS AND SHIT???? LIKE BRO???? WHY DO Y'ALL KNOW ABOUT THESE ABYSS PEOPLE WHAT THE FRESH HELL
> 
> okay so im ignoring the abyss. for now. cause we don't know fucking jack shit about it!
> 
> and yeah, we're probably gonna ignore the new people that are coming wave 4 dlc because how the fuck am i supposed to implement them. sigh.
> 
> OKAY ALL THAT ASIDE PLEASE WATCH THIS AMAZING VIDEO THE LOVELY MAUVE MOON MADE FOR THIS FIC IT'S BASICALLY A MEME VIDEO IT'S WONDERFUL THANK YOU SO MUCH [lovely video](https://mauve-moon.tumblr.com/post/188960903887/this-is-so-bad-but-heres-some-memes-based-on)
> 
> onto the chapter! and bro, again, thanks so much for the support! you guys are so supportive, thank you so so much, i love you

Byleth wakes up. 

He has no idea where he is, to be perfectly honest. There are people falling to their knees, people choking on their own blood, soldiers stepping over corpses. Blue and white tile decorated in crimson, like the flags that cover the walls. Demonic beasts trampling ivory pillars and downing friend and foe alike. With each body that hits the floor, more and more seconds and chances are added to the lives of those that still stand and live to fight. It's battle. It's familiar, it's like coming home.

_"Professor! Pay attention!"_

_A girl on a pegasus swoops down and covers his back, hands firmly gripping a silver lance. Ingrid smiles down at him, but it looks more like a grimace. "What's wrong, professor? You cannot get distracted, now of all times!"_

_Her hair is clipped short, down to her chin. For some reason, Byleth thinks that the last time he saw her, her hair was much longer than it was now._

_"Edelgard is just up ahead!" Ashe calls, from his right. He notches an arrow and downs the archer that had taken aim at Byleth's head, in a last ditch attempt to kill the man. _

_Byleth only realizes that there's an arrow in his upper thigh when Ashe and Ingrid both stare at it, worriedly. _

_"I haven't forgotten," Byleth replies, even though it seems as if it couldn't be further from the truth. His head is foggy, and whenever he licks his lips he can taste blood- and hopes and prays to Sothis that it does not belong to him._

_Reaching down, he rips the arrow out of his leg with a sound that is dreadful to his own ears. _

_"I'll get Marianne," Ashe says, and yanks at the reins of his horse. _

_"No," Byleth calls, beckoning him over instead. He slips the arrow into Ashe's hands when he's close enough. "Remember?"_

_Ingrid and Ashe watch the wound knit itself back together, as the crest of flames flashes briefly behind Byleth. Ingrid nods again._

_"Don't get distracted now, professor," Ingrid calls, eyes narrowing. "It's now or never."_

_"I know," Byleth replies, and bearing an ease that he himself is surprised with, slips right back into the fray._

_Edelgard is ahead, in the throne room. She's right there. The end is just in the other room, and so close Byleth can practically taste it upon his tongue._

_Byleth is shaking._

_Every step feels heavier than the last._

_"Professor," Sylvain calls out to him, joining his side to team up on a soldier and raising his lance to gut them, "are you scared? Hop up on my horse, if you like."_

_Despite everything, he's still teasing. Byleth doesn't resist the urge to roll his eyes. "I am not afraid. And no thank you, Sylvain. I am stronger as infantry."_

_Byleth levels a bolganone at an armored unit unsuccessfully trying to hit Sylvain with his spear. "I don't doubt it, professor," Sylvain says, "but you're shaking. Wouldn't want you to die on us because you couldn't lift your sword."_

_"Sweet of you," Byleth replies, still moving forward, onward, "but I am not shaking from fear. Watch Flayn's back for me, I am going on ahead."_

_"I've got yours too, professor," Sylvain calls out, and joins Flayn's side. She's busy rescuing Felix from another room, who became separated from them through a wave of reinforcements._

_Byleth enters another long corridor and cannot but help but wonder about the decor. Were the walls required to have Imperial flags on every inch of them?_

_A demonic beast roars its displeasure at him as soon as it turns the corner. He huffs._

_Demonic beasts no longer seem daunting, even to his students that once flinched in their presence. To be completely honest, he feels a little sad watching them, especially since he had an inkling of what they really could be-_

_"Professor!" Annette calls out from behind him, folding her hands together. Her battalion does the same, and they level a devastating magic spell that knocks the beast into paralysis. "Please stop running off without backup or a healer!"_

_"I can heal-"_

_"I know you can," she cuts off, eyes still on the beast. "Dedue, a little help!"_

_Dedue appears behind her and chips away at the shield with a strength that Byleth is near envious of. "I've got your back," he says simply. _

_It's enough of an opening for Byleth. _

_He runs up to the beast and separates its head from its shoulders. The beast lets out one final roar, but it stops halfway through, choking on blood and dark ooze. Byleth takes a breath._

_"I'm going on ahead," Byleth says, and can hear his students calling out to him, indignantly, but a wave of reinforcements descend upon them. Byleth swears and runs back to them, letting his sword whip out and take a few of them out all at once. Heads fly. More crimson. Byleth is honestly sick of the colour by now. He thinks that he could live a better life without seeing it ever again._

_Dedue and Annette tag team the last one, Annette whittling the bandit down with a cutting gale and Dedue slicing at the man with an axe. It's so in sync, Byleth has to smile._

_"Long live... the empire," the man groans, attempting to spit their blood out onto Byleth's face. Byleth steps back silently, watching it fall and dribble to the floor._

_When he directs his attention back to his students, they're already watching him, as if waiting for him to run off again. He sighs. "Alright. I will not run off again. Let's hurry and go."_

_Dedue and Annette follow. Byleth has to wonder if all castles are this large, because every room and every corridor seems never ending, and there's only more and more enemies at every corner._

_One takes a wild swing at him. Byleth is clipped on the shoulder by the slash of his sword, but Byleth's used to the pain of blades- and without flinching, quickly slashes at the man's neck. Blood sprays him everywhere. _

_Annette raises her hands as if to heal him, but he shakes his head. "Save it for a wound that requires more attention," Byleth tells her, a frown on his face. "It's only a scratch. Besides, I saw you heal Dimitri a few times earlier. I know that you do not possess that many heals left."_

_"Then allow me," Mercedes says, appearing behind him with Felix in tow. Byleth quickly assesses the two of them for damage. They've both got cuts and scratches on their body, and blood stains their clothes, but most of it doesn't seem to belong to them._

_"No," Byleth reprimands. "Please save your heals, still. I've got many concoctions left." _

_He's got one concoction left. And three Divine Pulses. Divine Pulse number one was used when one of Hegemon Edelgard's attacks connected, and knocked Ingrid off of her pegasus when she was flying high to avoid certain enemies, and she was sent sprawling to the floor below, reaching out for hands that would not save her. Byleth doesn't think he'll ever forget the sound of his students screaming out in agony, nor her broken limbs trampled by the empire's soldiers. Divine Pulse number five was used when Dedue took a spell to the head meant for Sylvain, and he was sent flying back, cracking his head open upon the walls. Divine Pulse number eight-_

_Byleth shakes his head._

_It would not do, to think of such matters now._

_Mercedes narrows her eyes at him, but doesn't press the matter. "If you say so, professor. But remember, I'm right here for you."_

_Byleth nods. "I know. I trust you."_

_The battle rages on. It's practically mindless now. It has been mindless for a very long time. Byleth can practically see where the enemies are headed, who they plan on attacking, and how hard they will hit. Which mages know moves that practically kill in one blow, which enemies can hit twice, which ones will scream and beg and call for reinforcements and mercy despite all that they've allowed to happen._

_Unceremoniously, Felix is warped right next to Byleth, a scowl on his face. "Professor. There's a mage up ahead that you have to take care of. They keep using meteor on the boar and Lysithea."_

_Byleth nods at the dancer. "Got it," Byleth replies, and moves forward, rejuvenated. The mage barely has time to direct their attention to Byleth before he blows their head off with a spell. Byleth refuses to wince as his students catch up and see the carnage. They do not flinch. Byleth cannot help but hate the way that none of them are no longer visibly appalled by the sight of blood._

_"The entrance to the throne room is here!" Mercedes calls out, and is about to step inside when Byleth shoves a hand out to block her._

_"Wait."_

_"Professor, reinforcements-"_

_Byleth shakes his head. "We must wait for everyone," Byleth tells her. "We do not know what awaits us inside."_

_They pick off the few that dare step inside the little room they've decided to camp out in. They do not have to wait long. The rest of the Blue Lions arrive caked in blood, but still very much alive._

_Dima leads the rest of the Blue Lions to them, lance in hand. There is a fat smear of blood on his face, blood dripping down Areadbhar, blood caking his armor, but his eyes are clear with strain and sorrow._

_It's odd, to stop in the middle of a battle. There are still imperial soldiers after them, which Byleth can hear through the walls. And he knows for a fact that the soldiers in the throne room know that they're in the room over. Byleth does a head count anyway. _

_All of the Blue Lions are here._

_They look tired and weary. Ingrid's white pegasus is caked in blood. Felix's hair is rumpled, strands escaping his ponytail. There's a worrisome dent in Sylvain and Ashe's armor. Mercedes has lost her veil. Everyone looks like a complete and utter war stained mess._

_But they are alive._

_Byleth looks at Dima. "Ready?"_

_"Not at all," Dima replies, and leads the charge into the throne room. The Blue Lions follow, wordlessly, chins up, standing tall._

_They step into the throne room, and it is as if the entire atmosphere changes. Edelgard- Hegemon Edelgard, is standing in front of the throne. Byleth doesn't know how describe her. She looks absolutely monstrous. There is no remnants of an emperor. It is a beast, a monster, a demon, and all of her own doing._

_For some reason, despite having killed the man, Byleth still expects to see Hubert at her side, like always. _

_She is alone._

_Even the stray remnants of her army seem to fear being near her._

_Byleth cannot stop his shaking hands. Noticing this, and likely misinterpreting it, Dima takes one of his hands briefly, to squeeze it._

_"So," Dima begins. "That monstrous creature was Edelgard, was it? If she is prepared to transform her very body to fight for this future of hers... Then I have no choice but to defeat her, even if it costs me my life! We must defend the present... After all, it is all that we truly have."_

_Even words possess so much power. Byleth seems to shake harder at the words, and he's not the only one- the Blue Lions seem more determined. Byleth bites down on his lower lip. He cannot help but be proud._

_The soldiers keep coming, grow more desperate. One even lobs their axe straight at Flayn's head. They miss, of course, but Byleth makes sure to make quick work of the solider- desperation was potent and dangerous enough to be called a weapon, after all. It seems to be spreading, though. Some soldiers flee at the sight of them, fear flashing through their eyes. Some look crazed enough to try and tear them apart with their teeth. One of them lands a good hit on Annette with a near insane look in their eyes, and Byleth uses a Divine Pulse. He wants to vomit. Two left. _

_Byleth wonders if it's loyalty driving the imperial soldiers. Maybe spite. Perhaps stupidity. Whatever it was, everyone has already made their choices. Something would end today. Byleth would make sure that it was the empire._

_With a single arrow, Ashe ends the final soldier in the throne room._

_As one, the Blue Lions turn to Edelgard._

_And then, they turn to Byleth. Even Dima. _

_Byleth lifts his sword and ascends the stairs, the Blue Lions close behind. Dima is a reassuring presence at his back._

_Up close, she is even more daunting. Something about her presence is so distinctly inhuman- and not just her looks. Byleth cannot begin to explain it._

_The sword of the creator flashes in his grip. To be honest, Byleth has nothing to say to her. But with one look at him, Edelgard's dark eyes seem to shine._

_"Facing you... I grow weak..." _

_Byleth would be lying if he said that he understood her._

_He raises his sword, and the Blue Lions attack. They make quick work of her shield, dodging her enormous hands and her desperate spells. _

_"To be changed beyond all recognition... That is what lies at the end of the ideals you served so diligently," Dima says quietly. There is a sorrow that hangs around him, one that Byleth cannot read into. He knows their shared history, but dares not pry. Some things were just kept between two. "I have no pity for one such as you. If that is the future you hoped for, then you deserve no compassion."_

_Compared to the horde of soldiers, Edelgard is almost easier. She seems to only want to aim for those weak against physical attacks, so Byleth is sure to protect them. Wave after wave of healing spells rush through the air, and soon they stop entirely. They've only got concoctions left. The healers swear violently._

_It's difficult to fight in such an enclosed space with the Blue Lions, but Edelgard must be having a much more difficult time, for she's thrashing wildly, swinging her arms out and lobbing attack after attack at them._

_Byleth thinks it's going better than fine until one of her hands gut him. _

_He gags out blood, dropping the sword. Byleth doesn't have time to examine the look in her eyes before he uses a Divine Pulse._

**One left.**

_Now he really feels sick to his stomach. Despite how his crest could heal some attacks in battle, Byleth can practically feel each and every wound left upon his body, even if they occured in a different time. He can feel a thousand arrows piercing his back, a sword through his throat, magic running up and down his spine and paralyzing him- a hand through his body._

_Nevertheless, Byleth raises his blade._

_One strike to send her down!_

_Edelgard's shields fall. She roars in pain._

_Dima looks at Byleth, and he nods at the king. _

_"This battle is over," Dima declares, and raises Areadbhar to the heavens. He swings down._

_Edelgard falls to her knees._

_The throne room is silent as she transforms back, the monster peeling back to reveal the girl. She is still Edelgard, in spite of everything._

_Byleth regards her crumpled posture. All light has left her eyes. She seems small, too small. There is no blood upon her clothes. As if summoned, a beacon of light stretches from the sky and pierces the windows, shadowing her profile._

_Edelgard's head is bowed. It is not a sight Byleth ever believed that he would see in his lifetime. He can see her breaths becoming shorter and slower, her eyes fluttering weakly, and knows that she is dying in front of their eyes._

_Very slowly, Dima offers her his hand. _

_"El."_

_At the sound of her nickname, Edelgard looks up. _

_Dima offers her the tiniest quirk of her lips. It takes a moment, but Edelgard returns it, and Byleth's eyes narrow imperceptibly._

_He has always trusted his instincts. _

_That's why, when Edelgard has thrown her dagger at Dimitri, Byleth has pushed in front of him, sword already swinging. Edelgard slumps to the floor, the Sword of the Creator embedded in her body._

_Edelgard is dead._

_Byleth slumps to the floor in relief. The war was over._

_So why was Dima screaming?_

_He can hear Dima calling for Mercedes, for Annette, for any healer, to come help them. Byleth doesn't understand. Did Dima want to heal Edelgard? If that was his desire, then-_

_Ah._

_Byleth has only now started to become aware of the dagger in his throat._

_He can practically hear his father telling him to assess the situation. He's choking on his blood, he only has concoctions left, and any sort of healing spell wouldn't be able to rescue his damaged throat. He has no strength left. Byleth is dying, and quickly. He's losing far too much blood._

_Byleth can hear himself wheeze and spit up blood. It isn't a pretty sound. He's coughing and choking and he cannot breathe but at the very least Edelgard was dead. Dima is cupping his face and mouthing his name._

_How many Divine Pulses did Byleth have, again? One. It was fine. Everything was going to be fine. _

_He reaches for the Divine Pulse and comes up with nothing. He tries again. Nothing. Nothing, save for more bile trying to force its way up his throat. The very idea of using a Divine Pulse is splitting his skull in two. He cannot feel anything but pain, pain..._

_ **But Byleth was so sure that he had another-** _

_Byleth is now suddenly aware that he wants to live. He wants to see Dima restore his Kingdom, and live out the rest of his days by his side. He wants to visit his father and mother one last time. He wants to see Felix and Sylvain dance around the most unbearably awkward courtship known to man, he wants to see his Lions live long and fulfilling lives, he wants- he wants-_

_Byleth wants to cry._

_There is a moment in which Byleth is only aware of Dima, his muted screams his hands, his eye welling with tears, and then there is a moment where Byleth is aware of absolutely nothing at all._

.

Byleth wakes up.

He feels as if he's taken several swords to the head. His ears are ringing violently, and his body aches with the sort of pain one can only achieve after a long and arduous battle.

Taking note of his surroundings, he's pretty sure that he shouldn't be here.

Byleth distinctly remembers dying, after all. 

The room itself is quite grand. The bed he's on is covered with several blue blankets, ones that are very soft and smooth. There are piles of matching pillows, and a gauzy curtain draped around the bed, presumably for decoration. On both sides of the bed are nightstands- the one Byleth's closest to is neat, and has a single journal and candle sitting atop it. The other table is covered in miscellaneous items- several books, even more whetstones, an oil lamp, something that appears to be a scarf- Byleth stops looking at it to gape openly at the rest of the room. 

On his right are the largest windows he's possibly ever seen, alongside a door that leads to a balcony. There's a giant round blue rug in the middle of the room, two armchairs next to each other, and three massive bookshelves. One corner of the room has both Areadbhar and the Sword of the Creator propped up against the wall.

Byleth is slightly happy that Areadbhar was there. Perhaps that would explain why Dima was currently asleep next to him in bed.

Byleth considers the possibility of being totally and truly dead, but that would mean Dima would be too, if he were really here, and that is a line of thought that he refuses to follow.

_Sothis?_

No answer. 

Wait. Why was he calling for Sothis? Didn't they merge into one? Why was he-

Byleth leaps out of bed. Where in the world was he, where was Sothis-

"Byleth?" Dima calls, and it's so sleepy and fond that Byleth cannot help but turn to look at the man. "It's too early to be up. Come back to bed."

When Byleth hesitates, Dima cracks his good eye open and tries to encompass as much of a puppy dog eyed look as he can into his stare. "Please? The bed is cold without you."

At this admission, what else can Byleth do but comply? He falls into bed next to Dima and curls up against him, feeling distinctly warm- and confused.

.

It only gets weirder. 

Byleth is whisked into a world he feels that he does not belong in. There is black ooze coming out of the castle walls- and yes, he is in the castle, Dima's castle, which is an odd thought- but every time he tries to focus his gaze upon it, it disappears.

It doesn't seem like anything is wrong, but it doesn't feel like anything is right, either.

His Blue Lions are here. Dedue and Ashe allow him to taste test their food. They're trying to open an inn together. Annette invites him over to her family home over tea. He witnesses Ingrid's knighting ceremony. 

Byleth is _Archbishop._ Archbishop!

Anytime he asks after Rhea, his head seems to fill with fog, and his surroundings disappear and are suddenly filled anew, with people, with requests, with Dima.

He greets the people of the Kingdom. They take a shine to him, for some reason. For some reason, every time he tries to focus on a face, they only seem to blur.

Byleth has no idea what's happening.

It feels as if time is passing weirdly, as if Byleth is missing a good chunk of himself and his memories. But he can't exactly think upon it when-

"Dima."

"Yes?" 

"Stop kicking me under the table."

Dima opens his mouth to reply, but Sylvain cuts in from his place at the other side of the table. "It's called 'playing footsies,' professor."

He is swiftly and promptly elbowed by Felix, who is sitting at his side and pretending like his stomach wasn't rumbling.

Byleth does a headcount, head still throbbing in pain. Dima, himself, Sylvain, Felix, Ashe, Ingrid, Mercedes, Annette, Dedue. Lysithea, Dorothea, Hilda, and Marianne. Flayn and Cyril.

He frowns. 

"Where are Linhardt and Ferdinand?" Byleth asks, and knows that as soon as the words leave his mouth, that he's missing something important.

All conversation stops, for a moment.

Then, as if Byleth's said absolutely nothing, the chatter continues. Byleth turns to Dima with wide eyes, and stands, indignantly.

"What is going on?" Byleth demands, raising his voice for the first time in what seems like- how long has it been? He cannot recall.

He smiles at him, and Byleth loses any train of thought he's once possessed. "They're bringing out the wine and bread now, love."

Byleth's head fills with fog.

Byleth sits down at the table, eager for the meal. Nameless and faceless servants fill the room and place down baskets of bread rolls and golden goblets filled to the brim. Curious about the contents, he peers inside of the closest one.

It's pitch black. The contents are viscous and seem to ooze up and down the sides, like it was alive. It hardly resembles wine, let alone a liquid.

Byleth blinks.

"What's wrong, Byleth?" Dima asks, and it seems as if he's already taken a sip from his goblet. Black ooze spills from his lips, a tiny bit drizzling from his chin. Byleth has the oddest urge to kiss it off. When he blinks, it's simply red wine.

Across the table, Annette is splitting a bread roll with Mercedes.

The insides are pitch black. The insides bubble and boil.

He peers back into his goblet.

Red.

Swirling the liquid around, he knocks the goblet back and empties the contents down his throat.

.

Dedue and Ashe open their inn. Their specialities are dynamic and homey mixes of both Duscur and Fódlan cuisine. Sylvain and Felix leave the Kingdom, very briefly, to make further peace with Sreng. Mercedes cuts off her father. Annette makes peace with her own. He hears tales of Ingrid's knighthood every single day.

Dima and Byleth talk. They draw borders, sign laws, and peace treaties. Claude visits, from time to time, and they joke as much as they debate and agree on politics. Byleth reforms the church, little by little. His plan is to pass off his duties to Seteth, in the future. Dima is still attempting to reform the crest system.

Sometimes, when no one is watching, Dima kisses him softly on the cheek, and on the forehead, during council meetings and paperwork. Sometimes he kisses him in plain sight of the Blue Lions, and they all giggle and tease. Never on the lips. Byleth doesn't ask why.

Time is moving, but Byleth cannot feel it move.

.

Byleth is sitting in a garden of crimson red roses, staring up into a lilac sky. Brilliant green hedges trap him into a gorgeous cage.

Why is he here? He hates red.

Dima is daintily plucking thorns off of the roses, and feeding them to Byleth. He is daring enough to press his own fingers to a delicate tongue. The thorns drip something as dark as night, a void among the cacophony of colours.

Very, very slowly, Dima licks the excess of his fingers, and grins.

"I hate red," Byleth informs him, still watching his fingers.

Dima's smile only widens. "Okay," he says simply, and the roses turn a dazzling, deep blue. 

Byleth takes a moment to admire the roses and Dima's thoughtfulness before something occurs to him.

That's not right, Byleth thinks. This isn't-

Dima presses another thorn to his lips, and Byleth stops thinking entirely. This time, Dima is bold enough to lean in and pepper gentle kisses all over Byleth's neck and face.

"Kiss me," Byleth pleads, and Dima complies. "Again. Again."

Dima peppers his face with little pecks, and Byleth can feel him smiling against his skin. "Again. Again, please. Again."

.

Byleth becomes aware out of the blue.

He's arranging documents at his desk, battle plans and strategies, just in case. The war was over, but there were always rebels and rebellions, and those who would spill blood simply for the fun of it.

Byleth nods at the papers, and decides to show his father, to make sure everything was-

His head seizes and throbs with pain. Didn't his father die years ago? Didn't he watch him die? Didn't he die in Byleth's own arms? 

It's a brief moment of clarity, but it's enough. 

Jeralt is alive. 

But not here.

Byleth stands from his chair and bursts into his bedroom.

As expected, Dima's getting ready for bed. As soon as he sets eyes on Byleth, he smiles, so softly and sweetly, that Byleth forgets his purpose. The thought of his father is enough to knock the fog from his head, though.

He ignores Dima's outstretched arms and stomps over to the corner, where the Sword of the Creator lay, and points it at Dima's neck.

"Where am I?" Byleth demands.

"Sweetheart," Dima says, and it's so tender that Byleth shakes, "There is no need for the sword, okay? We're safe. The war is over."

"Where am I?!"

Dima squares his shoulders. "We're in our castle in the capital, Fhirdiad. We're in our bedroom, and everything is alright."

Byleth reaches down into his terrible memory and yanks at anything he can find.

"My name is Byleth Eisner," he begins, bland as ever. "I died killing Edelgard, and traveled back in time thanks to Sothis to prevent a war. My father and I are alive, but not here. And you are not Dima. Where am I?"

Dima regards him quietly. "But I am Dima," he says simply.

"I dreamed you once," Byleth says, as if he hasn't said a word, and a thought occurs to him. "And I suppose I am dreaming you again."

Dima doesn't speak. 

Byleth is suddenly, very, very aware of everything wrong. "Linhardt," he breathes suddenly. "And Flayn! They kidnapped them. They kidnapped us! I'm dreaming now, aren't I?"

"Only you have those answers, Byleth," Dima says, standing and crossing the room to him, despite the sword still leveled at his throat. Byleth swears quietly under his breath. "Why not stay until you wake?"

"I cannot stay," Byleth says, and the fogginess begins to fill his head again. He shakes his head in an attempt to be rid of it. "No one wants that. I have to go back."

Dima cups Byleth's cheek tenderly. "What do you want, Byleth? Be selfish, for once. You deserve it, more than anyone."

Byleth wants many things.

The words leave his lips without permission. "I want to stay here with you," Byleth admits. He thinks he may actually be crying, which is totally unacceptable, but in the face of the one he loves most, he cannot stop his emotions. 

He lowers the sword and crumples into Dima's arms, because he does not know when he'll be able to do it ever again.

"Then stay," Dima says, as if it's that simple. "I want all of that too."

"But this isn't real," Byleth insists, even as he makes no effort to move away.

"It can be," Dima says. "Sleep isn't so bad."

"I've got the fate of a continent upon my shoulders," Byleth replies quietly.

"It doesn't have to be yours," Dima says, and Byleth pushes out of his embrace, sword at his throat once more.

"Dima would never say such a thing to me," Byleth hisses, eyes narrowing.

Dima tilts his head. "But it is what you want to hear. Is that so wrong? It's okay, Byleth. Wanting things isn't so selfish. What do you want, Byleth?"

Byleth has been afraid of wanting things. During the war, he has wanted peace so badly that even saying words of hope aloud made them seem worthless. He wanted Dima to stop hurting, but he knew just as much as anyone else that simply wanting wounds to heal would not heal a thing. He wanted- he wanted-

"I am afraid."

"What are you afraid of? Why are you so afraid of making a decision? Why are your hands shaking now?"

Byleth's lower lip trembles, despite everything. He wants to say Edelgard. He wants to say that he fears even thinking of slaying her. He wants to say that he hesitates over killing someone so important, so _'royal',_ so set in their beliefs that every other person that says otherwise must and should be wrong. He wants to say that he does not want to be the catalyst of a series of events that would shake the world. Byleth wants to say that he does not want another person's blood on his hands, but was that really the truth?

A thought occurs to him, so sudden and sharp that it appears to be more of a revelation than anything else. A sudden flash of light. The hum of metal. The taste of someone else's blood.

The slow crawl of his lips seems to slow time around him.

"I am afraid that I would enjoy killing her too much."

Dima smiles.

"I love you, Byleth," he says suddenly.

Byleth drops the sword.

"I love you too," he declares, and it's such a relief to say that Byleth feels as if he may soar into the sky with the declaration alone. Even if it is not his Dima. "I love you, Dima."

Despite everything, Byleth loves him. Every single part of him. The years apart and the losses and the grief and Byleth dying- _in his arms,_ the wounds that not even love nor time could fill. Dima's smiles, so rare now. His efforts to try and rebuild and to make things better, not only for his Kingdom but also for himself. His compassion, which made him both vulnerable and vengeful and yet still tender and kind. Byleth has loved every moment and every part of him and he wouldn't trade his love for the world.

"With a sentence alone you've made me the happiest man alive," Dima says, and rubs a careful thumb across his cheek before freeing Byleth's face from his grasp and grabbing onto his waist instead. With a strength Byleth is still in awe of everytime he sees it, Dima picks up Byleth and spins him around, laughing and tilting his chin up to kiss Byleth's neck and chin. He only puts him down again when Byleth pushes his face away, half amused and half exasperated.

"I love you, Dima," Byleth says again, as if the words were fleeting, mere figments of a passing dream. "I love you."

Dima laughs, and Byleth presses a single finger to his mouth. "Your turn. I want to hear you say it again."

"I can say it as many times as you want," Dima replies, and Byleth is sure that he's never seen anyone so beautiful. "I love you, Byleth. I love you. More than you'll ever know."

Byleth swears to memorize this moment, to immortalize it within his heart and preserve it within his bones as long as he draws breath, and even beyond that.

"I love you," Byleth repeats, "and that's why I have to go. I love the Blue Lions, I love my father, I love the academy, I love Sothis- there are so many people that I love, and that's why I have to leave now, Dima. This is for everyone."

"I know," Dima says, and it's a true smile. "Godspeed, Byleth. I love you. It's time to wake up, now. Sothis is waiting. I am waiting."

Dima kisses him on the lips this time, and Byleth closes his eyes.

When he opens them, he's someplace entirely different.

"Finally!" Sothis says, waving a hand in front of his eyes. Despite her accusing words, she looks relieved. "I kept on calling and calling, but you didn't answer! Listen, they kidnapped you, Flayn, and Linhardt! Get up!"

The bone deep relief Byleth feels at the sight of her makes his knees weak. "Sorry, Sothis. I am awake now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I SAID IT WAS PLOT BUT I DIDN'T SAY WHAT KIND HAHA
> 
> YEAH SO IT'S NOT TECHNICALLY THE KIDNAPPING CONSEQUENCES CHAPTER BUT IT'S A VERY IMPORTANT ONE. AND FUCKING HELL YES DIMA SAID GODSPEED- GUESS WHAT IVE BEEN WAITING ON THAT LINE AND THAT PARAGRAPH FOR MONTHS AHHAHAHAHAHHA I DON'T CARE IF IT'S CHEESY IT'S PLOT IMPORTANT 
> 
> this means actual consequences and plot next chapter. for realsies this time.
> 
> okay so this is an actual IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT next week pokemon swsh comes out! but quag, you say, what the hell does that have to do with anything? good question! it means one of three things, actually  
1\. i won't update next week, too busy playing pokemon  
2\. ill update REALLY FUCKING EARLY NEXT WEEK. LIKE THURSDAY MAYBE  
3\. nothing will change ill upload it around the same time lol
> 
> ive been writing godspeed for like. bro. 15 consecutive weeks? which is so fucking wild. so pokemon is the perfect to wind down from it! i love godspeed so, so much, and i don't wanna become burned out, but i also am riding this wave of consecutive updates every week and i dont particularly want to get off of it, so we shall see. thank u, either way.
> 
> might i direct your attention please to the collection my fic has been added into? there's some good fics in there. go read them if u wanna ;)
> 
> OKAY SO ILL REPLY LATER TO YOUR COMMENTS IM SO TIRED LOL. BUT AS ALWAYS THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT I LOVE YOU
> 
> thanks so much for reading ♡
> 
> byleth/dimitri C+ rank  
byleth/dedue C+ rank  
byleth/felix C+ rank  
byleth/annette C+ rank  
byleth/ingrid C+ rank  
byleth/sylvain B rank  
byleth/mercedes C+ rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt C+ rank  
byleth/ferdinand C rank  
byleth/lysithea C rank  
byleth/cyril C rank
> 
> byleth/caspar C rank  
byleth/flayn C rank
> 
> byleth/jeritza C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/claude C rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea C rank


	17. so said the fool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> miss me?
> 
> PROBABLY NOT LOL RHEUSUUSUSJ
> 
> WHWUUWIWIWIWI IM SORRY I SAID I MIGHT UPLOAD EARLIER BUT BECAUSE OF SCHOOL AND POKEMON I DIDN'T I HOPE THAT THIS CHAPTER MAKES UP FOR IT
> 
> speaking of pokemon, pokemon shield is so fun! i beat the main story and the post game in like two days ehehuwuwuwusuus HEY NO ONE ASKED BUT HERE'S MY TEAM  
my cinderace, hinata  
my corvinknight, kageyama (please don't call me out okay i know i know)  
my hatterene, mercie  
my appletun, tau  
my toxtricity, grumby,  
and my quagsire, chubs!  
I WASN'T GONNA USE QUAGSIRE CAUSE I LIKE USING NEW MONS IN THE NEW GENS BUT WOOPER CAME OUTTA THE GRASS AND SMILED AT ME AND I HAD TO HAVE HIM CMON HES MY FAV POKEMON WHATEVER IT'S FINE
> 
> currently im tryna breed a shiny galarian corsola and find a shiny wooloo... without a shiny charm. my life is suffering....
> 
> OKAY THAT'S ENOUGH FROM ME TAKE IT AWAY BYLETH

At the back of Byleth's skull and behind his eyes, there's a throbbing, pulsating pain that seems to echo throughout the rest of his body. Touching the back of his neck, his fingers come back with dried blood. He's distantly aware of his dry throat and his empty stomach, but focuses more on conjuring a heal spell to fix himself up. When his vision is less blurry, he focuses on Sothis, who looks slightly more pale than usual. She looks as if she's worried her lip into near bleeding. Byleth feels absolutely terrible- and like a complete moron. How could he possibly let anyone sneak up on him like this? Perhaps he was becoming softer in an age without war.

"...And that's basically what happened. Questions?" Sothis finishes, nodding to herself.

Byleth inclines his head slightly, eyeing his tied hands. He's loose enough to wiggle his fingers around, and his hands were free enough to wave a spell, but even the slightest movement makes him feel dizzy and see violet flashes of light behind his eyes. _Yes._

"About what?"

_Everything. Sorry, I wasn't paying enough attention._

Sothis swats at his arm, but it lacks actual weight. Still, Byleth winces. Sothis retracts her hand quickly, looking a little surprised.

"Sorry," she whispers. Byleth shakes his head. 

_It's okay. It doesn't actually hurt. But I don't think that I can stand._

Sothis frowns. "Are you alright? Didn't you just use a heal spell?"

_I think that one spell already took a lot out of me. How long have I been out?_

"I don't know."

Byleth blinks, slowly enough that Sothis looks slightly embarrassed. _You don't know._

Sothis throws up her hands, looking a mix of exasperated and embarrassed. "I am an all powerful goddess! Do you think that trivialities like time matter to me? I am above such mortal matters!" 

He nods at her. _...So, you weren't sure._

The goddess ducks her head a little. "Yes. Sorry."

_It's okay, Sothis. I know you've done your best. Before you tell me anything more, let me check up on those two._

Byleth sighs, leaning his head back. The back of his head, damp and sweaty, meets the cool wall behind him, and he nearly groans aloud in relief. The cold stone is a balm against his tired head. For the first time, he takes note of the area around him, and the figures curled up next to him on the floor, knocked out. 

Linhardt is sprawled inelegantly on the floor next to him, forehead sweaty. Byleth scoots over to his sleeping figure slowly, and with great difficulty, checks his pulse and his breathing. He breathes a sigh of relief when it seems as if all of Linhardt is intact. He checks on Flayn next, curled up into a little ball on his left. Quickly checking her pulse, he notes the smallest little pinprick on her neck with a frown. He didn't see that on Linhardt. 

_Sothis?_

"What is it?"

_Do I have anything on my neck?_

She leans in, examining his neck and chin before frowning. "Nothing but your sweat. Why? Is there something wrong? Do you feel pain anywhere near there?"

Wordlessly, Byleth points at the tiniest little dot upon Flayn's neck, barely a blemish, yet still noticeable to Byleth's trained eye. When Sothis notices the mark, her frown seems to worsen. "...What is that?"

_I was hoping that you would know. You were awake this entire time, were you not?_

Sothis searches his expression for a brief moment. "...You forget that I can only stay apart from you so long, Byleth. Flayn was likely separated from you for a moment, so I have no idea."

There's something strange about that statement that Byleth cannot put his finger on. The moment passes before Byleth can think any further upon the matter, and he groans again, shifting his head to lean against cooler tile.

Once he's sure that they're both alive and relatively unharmed, Byleth drags their bodies over to him and delicately places their heads upon both his thighs, like a pillow. He figures that hard stone and tile would be killer on the neck. 

The two of them do not stir in the slightest. Although Byleth knew that Flayn did wake eventually, he had no idea if any of that would change, especially since now both he and Linhardt were thrown into the equation.

Sighing, he directs his attention back to Sothis. _Okay. Sorry for the wait. I am listening now._

She huffs quietly, and rearranges herself so that she's propped up against the wall and leaning on his right shoulder. "Okay. So you were an idiot who didn't look behind you and you got kidnapped by the Death Knight."

Byleth shrugs. He figured that it was probably Jeritza. He wordlessly motions her with one hand to continue. 

"So the Death Knight knocked you out with some magic, then got Linhardt, then got Flayn. All of you got knocked out with magic, if my memory isn't mistaken. Then that horrid Monica-"

_Monica? Not Cornelia? Not the Flame Emperor?_

"Shh, I'm not done!" Sothis scolds, eyebrows scrunching together. "Anyway, where was I before you so rudely interrupted me? Yes. So Monica was there too, behind Emile, and did one of her horrible ugly cackles before picking up the Sword of the Creator-"

_She took my sword-_

"Let me finish!" Sothis interrupts once more, looking slightly pissed. "She took your sword, but then she immediately passed it to the Death Knight. I don't remember what she said, but I am pretty sure by how quickly she passed it over that she was aware of what would happen should she hold onto that sword for too long."

_...Jeritza didn't become a beast, did he?_

Sothis nods. "Ah. So you noticed. Well, he is related to Mercedes, who does have a crest of her own. So Jeritza likely has one as well."

_I don't understand how these hero's relics work,_ Byleth admits.

"Well, those with crests not pertaining to the weapon in question can wield them," Sothis confesses slowly, "albeit after awhile, it will begin to hurt them."

_How do you know this, Sothis?"_

Sothis glances away briefly. "Your memories," she replies, curling up further onto his shoulder.

Byleth tilts his head to the side, so that their heads are touching. _I did not notice this. I am not even sure if I allowed other students to wield hero's relics that are not their own. Ah, but I did allow Ashe to wield Failnaught, but he doesn't have a crest, and didn't seem hurt. Don't tell me he was bearing the pain without telling me-_

She shakes her head, effectively cutting off that thought process. "Failnaught's always been like this," Sothis murmurs, and then clears her throat. "No matter. The point is, is that the Death Knight took you back to that secret corridor from his room, and that if Cornelia was involved, she sure did not show her face."

Byleth's eyes narrow on the door at the end of the room. It's taken a while, but his eyes have slowly adjusted to the dim light being cast upon the cold walls and floors. He can barely see the outline of a keyhole upon the door, and sighs.

_So, should I use a Divine Pulse?_ Byleth asks, but is surprised when Sothis shakes her head violently from side to side.

"No," Sothis exclaims, frantic. "No, no. Look at the sight of you! Look how terribly haggard you are! Remember when you used a Divine Pulse to rewind an entire day, and you could barely even remember where you were and how dazed you felt? I cannot bear to see you like that again, Byleth. Do you know how awful I felt when you were being dragged away and I couldn't do anything about it?! And I have no idea how much time has passed since you've been kidnapped!"

Byleth swears quietly under his breath. Sothis sighs alongside him. "I know, I understand. It could have been weeks wasted down here, and we wouldn't even know!"

He bites down on his lower lip. _I may have missed Petra and Dorothea's birthdays._

Sothis gives him a stare that chills his insides. "Are you serious right now?"

_Birthdays are an important part of life,_ Byleth replies, and Sothis then proceeds to stomp her feet on the floor.

"We've got more important things to worry about here!" Sothis shrieks, Byleth wincing at the sudden sound. His ears and temples ring shrilly in protest. "Like how we're going to get out of here, or what we'll do if the Death Knight or Monica comes to check up on us-"

Byleth nods, determined. Sothis takes one look at his face and grins, all teeth. "Have you got a plan to get out of this mess, Byleth?"

He gives her a confident look, barely concealing a smile of his own. _I turn into a dragon-_

"You cannot turn into a dragon."

_But I-_

The door creaks open, sliding against the floor with a scrape that rattles and picks at Byleth's ribs.

The Death Knight steps through the door, haloed by an eerie, yellow light. His footsteps seem to echo on the tile, and every single one of his movements is slow, almost lazy, punctuated by the focus of his red stare. In one hand, his scythe. The other, the Sword of the Creator. It seems to hum when it sees him, and wriggles out of Jeritza's hands to curl up at Byleth's feet.

Jeritza's eyes seem to flash.

Byleth is not impressed. 

The Death Knight is giving him a look that makes it blatantly obvious that he can see that Byleth is awake, and Byleth closes his eyes very, very slowly. 

He waits one moment.

Byleth carefully opens one eye to check if the Death Knight is still watching him. He is. Byleth slams that eye shut in an attempt to pretend like nothing just happened.

"I saw that," Jeritza points out gruffly. "I know that you're awake."

"You saw nothing."

"Did too."

"Did not. I can't even hear you. I am asleep," Byleth replies, eyes half open now.

"You are clearly not asleep."

Byleth curls on his side, facing away from Jeritza and his stupid scythe. But in doing so, he is now facing Sothis, who looks red-faced in anger and indignation. Byleth carefully turns the other way to pretend like he didn't see her, but in doing so, he faces the Death Knight once more. Sighing loudly, he gives up all pretense of sleeping and gives him a lazy once over, tilting his chin up at the man.

"You knocked me out," Byleth says, and it's more a statement than anything else.

Jeritza- the Death Knight- Emile- whatever, nods. Byleth inclines his chin in turn. "Explains the sloppy job," Byleth says, surprised at his own words. There was something about the man that made him want to fight him.

"It did the job," Jeritza replies, roughly. Aha. So he would respond to taunts.

"I would have done it better," Byleth retorts, and he can practically see the man's lip curl underneath his mask.

Sothis is staring at him in wide eyed disbelief. "Byleth. Byleth, Byleth, please do not tell me you are fighting over who would knock the other out best."

_We are not, because I would have done a better job knocking him out._

The goddess sighs, long suffering and loud. "Maybe you should use a Divine Pulse. I cannot bear to watch your interactions with this man."

Byleth rolls his neck around, delighting in the loud cracks that hum in the air. "Is it truly alright to just give me back my sword?" Byleth drawls, tone still incredibly bland. He wants to rile this man up, and attempts to channel Felix in his words. "Your master wouldn't appreciate you running off your leash like this and disobeying, would they?"

"I have no master," Jeritza replies, voice grating on Byleth's pulsating skull. "I just want to talk."

"You didn't have to kidnap me to talk to me," Byleth replies, voice cool. He wasn't one to start fights, but something about Jeritza just made him very angry, a tad more impulsive, and brought his competitive side to the surface.

Jeritza seems to visibly struggle with his next words, and Byleth watches as Jeritza sinks to the floor awkwardly, sitting down across from him. Sothis' nose wrinkles as the man takes off the mask, and sets it on the floor between the two of them, like some sort of barrier. 

He sets the scythe down on the floor next to him. Byleth watches warily.

"I must admit that I was not intending to kidnap you," Jeritza confesses, but Byleth honestly could not care less at the moment. He's tired, and hungry, and desperately wants to use a Divine Pulse so he can gut Monica, maybe Jeritza, perhaps Edelgard. "But the Death Knight-"

Byleth closes his eyes and leans his head back against the wall. Sothis actually snorts a little, and he can hear her try and muffle the sound with her hands.

"...I am trying to hold a conversation with you," Jeritza says, a little desperately. Even someone as oblivious as Byleth can hear it. 

He cracks one eye open. "You'll find that people do not usually try and hold polite conversations with one another when one party has been kidnapped."

Byleth watches as Jeritza bites down on his lip hard enough to draw blood, and the man stands from the room, marching out of it and slamming the door behind him. 

Both Sothis and Byleth blink.

"...Perhaps being absolutely infuriating was the correct choice of action," Sothis murmurs, slightly astounded. "Whatever. I didn't hear a lock turn. Shall we get out of here?"

Byleth meets her gaze and then glances quickly back down at the two asleep on his lap. Sothis actually pouts. "Why is it that your students make everything so much more complicated?" She demands, but relents for now. "It is of no matter. You have Divine Pulses for a reason."

_Besides, I am sure that my students will come for us,"_ Byleth thinks back. _And my father will as well._

"You are going to be in so much trouble," Sothis informs him, and Byleth hangs his head slightly. "And you best believe that as soon as we are out of here, that I will yell at you too."

_You're already yelling at me, Sothis._

"Listen here-"

The door slams unceremoniously open once more, Jeritza appearing in the frame. He's kicked open the door. This isn't a particularly unusual sight. What surprises both Sothis and Byleth the most is what the man is holding in his hands.

One hand, carefully holding a white teapot. The other hand, holding two white cups, the rims painted gold. Jeritza kicks the door shut again, and settles down across from Byleth, once more sitting unceremoniously in front of the man. Byleth can hear the tea sloshing precariously inside the teapot, and he almost winces.

Jeritza places the teapot and cups down with a gentleness that startles Byleth more than any of his actions prior, and carefully pours them both cups of tea. He can smell the strong fragrance, a honeyed-fruit blend that Byleth had not expected the man to enjoy. 

When Byleth doesn't move, Jeritza pushes the tea cup closer to him with a scowl. "Go on. I know that this is the sort of thing that you enjoy."

Byleth wordlessly raises his tied hands. Jeritza nods at him, and lifts up the scythe to slash at the bonds, the rope falling into Byleth's lap.

"Don't drink that," Sothis scolds, as Byleth lifts the tea to his lips and takes a generous swig, downing the cup in one go. Ignoring her scathing glare, Byleth pours himself another cup.

Jeritza watches all of this with a barely-contained fascination. "I thought you would hesitate more," Jeritza murmurs. "Maybe ask me if it was poisoned, or otherwise tampered with."

Dry throat in mind, Byleth takes smaller, slower mouthfuls, then wipes at his lips with the back of his hand. "If you wanted me dead, I would already be so."

Jeritza blinks at him. "You understand me."

To avoid answering, Byleth takes another sip. A few long moments pass without the other speaking.

"This... is a questionable pastime," Jeritza offers, attempting to make another opening for conversation. Normally, Byleth would disagree, but he merely takes another sip.

Silence.

"Good tea, bad tea. It's all the same."

The slightest inclination of Byleth's head. 

"I-I'm deathly allergic to this sort of thing."

Another gentle sip.

"Goddess dammit," Jeritza suddenly exclaims, so suddenly that Sothis nearly jumps. "You are the one that seems to enjoy these tea parties! Do not ignore me."

Byleth takes his time wiping at the condensation on the rim of the cup, and setting it down gently upon the tile. Then, finally, he speaks. "Did you dump the entire sack of sugar into this teapot?"

"I like sweets," Jeritza spits, turning up his nose. "What of it?"

"When making tea, you should only add sugar or milk after the tea is done brewing, and only in individual cups, and not the teapot," Byleth says, a little bitterly. "And you brewed this tea for too short a time. A few minutes more, and it should have deepened the flavor."

"Byleth." Sothis chides.

Byleth catches his mistake, and slams his mouth shut. 

"So you can speak," Jeritza comments softly. 

"Drink your tea," Byleth says, monotone. 

Inexplicably, Jeritza chuckles. The sound surprises even himself. Obediently, he takes a sip, closing his eyes as he savors the flavor of the drink.

Byleth watches him, eyes narrow.

He doesn't understand this man. He claims to care for Mercedes, yet he would raise a hand against her in battle occasionally. He says that he doesn't take orders, but lowers his head to the Flame Emperor. He wants to kill Byleth- 

And yet here Byleth was, reluctantly sharing tea with the man.

One motion and Byleth could cut the man's head off. It would be easy, probably. Byleth was faster than Jeritza, and, unlike his scythe, the Sword of the Creator would come if called. Besides, Byleth knew that his students and his father were coming. It was a matter of when. In the commotion, Byleth could slip his sword quietly into the man's back. Or even now. Throwing the scalding hot tea in the man's face, then killing him. Cracking the tea pot against his skull. Beating him to a bloody pulp with his fists, but finishing the job this time.

What was stopping him?

Mercedes, probably. A desperate attempt to prove that his morals were perhaps, still intact. A potential ally in Jeritza, despite everything he did not know about the man.

Perhaps Byleth was staring too long, for Jeritza catches him quickly.

"I welcome any of your attempts to kill me," Jeritza says, out of the blue. He meets Byleth's gaze. "In fact, I am anticipating them."

Byleth doesn't say a word, but Jeritza continues. "I know that you are the only one worthy of ending me in a true battle," the man continues. "Killing you in your sleep would be a true waste."

Sothis fakes a gag. "Everything he says rubs me the wrong way," Sothis murmurs, sounding extremely creeped out and put off.

"What happened to you?" Byleth asks, a near whisper, but Jeritza hears it anyway.

"You won't find answers merely with words," Jeritza replies. "If you want to know my heart, know my sword."

"I don't give a shit about your heart," Byleth replies evenly. Both Sothis and Jeritza give him shocked looks. He supposes that he hasn't really said anything vulgar as of late, not around his students and not in a time of peace. "You are perhaps one of the most infuriating people I have ever met. I don't understand you, but I am trying. What is it that makes you obey the Flame Emperor? Why do you care so much about fighting me? Who are you, anyway?"

A pause.

"That is the most that I have ever heard you speak," Jeritza says quietly. "Are you always so rude?"

"Not to the people I like."

"I feel special, then."

Sothis gives the man a look. "How in the world does that make you feel special?"

"It's an honor to be shown sides of you that you do not show to anyone else. Yes... Yes, I have heard of you before. The Ashen Demon. Killing without expression, without mercy, without a single thought otherwise. You're just like me," Jeritza says, and looks near elated at the idea. Sothis shudders at Byleth's side, expression twisting. "We can help each other. You can slay the Death Knight within me, and I can murder the Ashen Demon within you."

Something hollow in Byleth seems to stir.

"You're wrong," Byleth replies, a tad more chilly compared to his usual bland tone. "I am the Ashen Demon. I am me. And so too, you are the Death Knight, and Jeritza von Hyrm, and Emile. There is not a single 'us' that we can kill or cut out of ourselves. We are not the same, and I have no need of your help."

Jeritza stares at him, lips slightly parted. His grip is so tight on the tea cup that Byleth can see little cracks start to form. His eyes are taking on a sort of glazed look, one that is actually beginning to startle him, although Byleth has never been shaken by the man prior to this.

"...Maybe I need yours," Jeritza whispers, barely a wisp of breath upon the wind. 

"Why?" Byleth asks. "I feel as if you've made your decision. Stay with the Flame Emperor, however, and I will cut you down."

Jeritza's gaze turns a little more foggy, and Byleth awkwardly pours himself a cup of tea to avoid that gaze. 

"I would love nothing more," Jeritza continues, "than to have you kill the Death Knight. It would be the greatest honor. As soon as I saw you in the Holy Mausoleum, with that sword, I knew you were the one. I knew you would be the the only one capable of doing it. What a joy it would be, to have your piercing gaze upon me, just barely sharper than your sword, as I die by your hand."

Byleth has noticed, just now, that both he and Sothis are pressing up against the wall awkwardly, in an attempt to slink away from the man.

He sighs, transfering his tea to his left hand, and spreading his right hand open, palm side up.

The Sword of the Creator flies into his hand and Byleth points it at Jeritza's neck. 

Jeritza stops moving. Byleth cannot even see the man breathe, nor blink. He presses the line of the sword further against the pale incline of the man's neck, and Jeritza shudders, absentmindedly. 

The tiniest drop of blood slides ever so slowly down the sword.

"I was hoping for a fight," Jeritza murmurs, "but I don't seem to mind this idea."

Byleth's eyes narrow.

He lowers the sword.

"Jeritza," Byleth says quietly, "despite everything, I have no interest in killing you. Nor do I have an interest in dying by your hand. We both still have much to live for."

For some reason, Jeritza looks near disappointed, even angry, at Byleth's casual remark. "The Death Knight will not stop killing," he claims. "He will never be satisfied until we duel, a proper duel to the death."

Byleth doesn't rise to the comment. He only sighs. The tea is now a disappointing lukewarm. 

"You know," Byleth begins, softer now. "Mercedes asked me to look after you. She still cares for you, you know."

Jeritza doesn't say a word.

"She left a slice of cake aside for you on her birthday," Byleth continues, mercilessly. "Mercedes never takes off that relic you gave her. She still calls you Emile-"

"Stop," Jeritza says, but Byleth has never really been one to relent.

"Mercedes looked ruined when she discovered that it was you under that mask."

"Don't."

"She was pleading with me to protect you, you know."

"Do not say another word-"

"For the next couple of days, she showed up to class with puffy eyes and-"

"STOP!" Jeritza cries out, stopping the tea cup in favor of his scythe and raising it over his head, slashing down at Byleth. Byleth merely quirks his head to the side dodging the fatal blow. It still scratches his cheek, and instead of tea, the faint smell of blood fills the air.

"What do you gain from telling me this?!" Jeritza demands, still shaking. "I cannot go see her. I cannot be at her side until the Death Knight is-"

"I don't care about whether or not you think you can be with her," Byleth replies, downright cold. "What matters is what she thinks. I don't care for you, truly."

Absentmindedly, he traces the rim of the tea cup with a long finger, before setting it down. "Whether you like it or not, Mercedes has always been thinking of you. There has always been a place for you at her side. I honestly could not care less what you do with this information. But if you hurt her, I will make you experience things worse than death. Understand?"

Silence.

Jeritza's lips part.

Suddenly, a soldier bursts through the door. "P-pardon!" Jeritza lifts the mask off of the ground, and slips it back on before turning towards the man.

"What is it?" Jeritza demands, tone icy. Byleth watches the man swallow visibly. 

"T-the Knights found us! What should we do?"

Jeritza glances briefly back at Byleth, who quirks the side of his lips and lifts the tea cup to his mouth. He turns back around. "To your stations. Bring me my horse. It's time to play."

The man scurries off, looking eager to escape from Jeritza's presence. With one hand, Jeritza rips the scythe from the wall. "We are not done talking."

"Are we not?" Byleth asks, tilting his head to one side. "I've said my peace. Whatever happens next is up to you. Go on, then. I'll play off of your next moves."

Jeritza studies Byleth for a few seconds. "You confuse me," Jeritza confesses. "I don't know what to do anymore."

"That's not my problem," Byleth says. 

One final look, and Jeritza leaves, slamming the door shut.

Sothis is running her hands down her face. "It is about to be our problem," Sothis complains, looking even more worried than before. "What will you do if more serious consequences happen because of this talk?!"

"...Divine Pulse?" Byleth offers quietly. "I'm sorry, Sothis. But Jeritza makes me so angry."

She sighs loudly. "Better than feeling nothing at all. By the way, you are insufferable. What now?"

Byleth picks up the Sword of the Creator, running a finger over Jeritza's blood. "I was expecting Monica or Cornelia to show up," Byleth confesses quietly.

"You're right!" Sothis exclaims. "And wait, doesn't the Flame Emperor make an appearance after the battle? We must be ready!"

Byleth gently guides both Flayn and Linhardt's heads off of his lap, making sure not to lay their heads upon the broke shards of the tea cup. Once he's sure that they're not going to roll and cut themselves onto the sharp bits, he uses the sword to help prop himself up, shaking the entire time. He's finally to his feet, and yet Byleth feels wildly out of breath. It feels as if it's been hours.

"What kind of spell did that man hit me with?" Byleth demands, his voice trembling with exertion. 

Sothis puts a finger to her chin. "I think that he just whipped a thunder spell at your head and hoped for the best," Sothis replies. Byleth blinks.

"I feel terrible," Byleth says simply.

"It was a head wound," Sothis responds. "Even the greatest of warriors can fall to the dumbest of blows."

"I appreciate the backhanded compliment," Byleth says, inching himself closer to the door. Once he's at the other side of the room, he collapses onto the wall right next to the doors, feeling weak in the knees. 

Sothis places gentle hands on his arms, to help prop Byleth up. "I'm sorry that I couldn't be much help," Sothis says.

"S'okay," Byleth replies, a little sleepy. "I know you did your best. But you gotta fill in the blanks later, alright?"

"Hm?"

"I think that there's something that you're not telling me," Byleth tells her, never one to dodge a subject. His voice is really shaking now. "But it's okay. You can take your time. I-I trust you."

Byleth cannot hear her reply. He's too focused on the sweaty back of his neck, the familiar grip of the Sword of the Creator in his hands, Flayn and Linhardt tucked in the corner of the room.

He takes a deep breath and waits.

The door swings open.

Stepping out from behind the cover of the door, with the last of his strength, Byleth whips out the sword as hard as he can. Whoever it is, they catch the blade, and it pierces through their gloved hand, blood dripping to the floor.

Byleth doesn't even have time to be surprised as the person tugs at the blade and pulls him out of the shadows.

"_How dare you use the professor's sword, you-_" 

A blink.

"Professor?" Dimitri demands, sounding incredulous. Dimitri loosens his grip on the blade, uncaring of the deep, bloody gashes left in his palms. 

Byleth cannot answer. 

He's far too shaken by the sight of Dimitri absolutely covered in blood.

It's stuck in his golden hair, tucked into his clothes, decorating his lance, smeared across his face, nestled in the hollow of his throat. 

It's so reminiscent of Dima that it steals Byleth's breath away from his lungs and drops him years and years into a future past that Byleth would not wish upon anyone.

It's not the Dima that kissed him softly under white bedsheets and it's not the Dima that sent him off with a smile so gentle that it had imprinted itself onto Byleth's soul.

It's a Dima Byleth has not seen since-

Dimitri drops his lance and brings both hands, despite them drenched in blood, up to cup Byleth's face. He presses his forehead against Byleth's, then pulls away to rub a thumb over the cut that Jeritza left on Byleth's face.

The prince opens his mouth and Byleth can hear nothing else, not even the cacophony of fighting beyond the door.

"**Who did this to you?**" Dimitri asks. It's soft, and surprisingly tender, yet so dark that Byleth can hardly see the bottom in his words. It feels as if Byleth's going to be swallowed up.

Desperate to find his words, Byleth tries to speak. "Did- did you, Death Knight- was he-"

"The Death Knight? He was here? Did you see him?" Dimitri demands, and now Byleth is just more confused. Did Jeritza not join the fight? "**Did he do this-**"

The last thing Byleth sees before he passes out is his own reflection in Dimitri's eyes, stunned, and green, so very green.

.

Byleth wakes up and everything is a mess.

He wakes up in Manuela's office under thin sheets, and is promptly pulled into his father's arms. Byleth nearly sobs in his embrace, pretending not to feel the tears falling onto his head. The mercenaries are at the foot of his bed, fast asleep, hastily picked flowers gripped so tightly in their hands that even sleep was not enough to loosen their grip.

The Blue Lions are there as well, even Linhardt, who surprisingly woke up earlier than him. It's Annette that moves first, bringing Byleth into a hug that crushes him. Everyone joins in soon after, pressing Byleth to their chests and not letting go. He ignores their sniffles, and politely does not watch Ferdinand wipe a stray tear from his eye nor Ashe scrub at his face with his sleeves.

Dimitri does not join the hug, but he tucks a strand of pale green hair behind Byleth's ear, almost absentmindedly, watching Byleth but not seeing him.

He takes note of how Felix watches him, watches Dimitri too, with wary eyes. He wonders what Felix is thinking.

He wonders what they have seen. He supposes he could ask later.

"I'm fine," Byleth tells them. 

Judging by the way they follow him to the audience hall, they do not believe him. The Blue Lions follow him so closely he can feel the heat of their bodies follow. He knows for certain that they will listen in. His father has a careful hand on the small of his back, and guides him inside.

"I'm not weak," Byleth says, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"You never were," his father whispers back. "I know that, I know. But... Just let me dote on you for now? I was so, so worried, Byleth. Don't ever do anything so reckless ever again."

Byleth swallows, and allows himself to be led into the chamber. Sothis slips a comforting hand into Byleth's own.

The audience hall is just as daunting as usual. Rhea, a glaring Seteth, and-

Cornelia. And Monica.

Byleth doesn't have time to wonder what they're doing here before Rhea strides over to him.

"Oh, my goodness, Byleth," Rhea says, and cups his face gently. "You are alright, correct?"

"I- I am."

"That's a great relief," Rhea breathes, brushing at Byleth's bangs. "I wouldn't know what to do were you injured- I wouldn't be able to bear it!"

Byleth and Sothis share a look.

"I am grateful for your worry," Byleth begins, a little slow. "But it is unnecessary. I am alright now."

"Please, allow me to worry for you," Rhea insists, still soft sounding. 

"I worry enough for the both of us," Jeralt cuts in, tone gruff. "It's fine, Rhea."

Rhea takes a moment to collect herself before smiling again, serene as ever. "You're right, Jeralt. I apologize if I seemed overbearing."

Byleth shakes his head, desperate to clear the awkward air. "No, no," he denies. "It's fine."

Seteth clears his throat loudly. "So, professor. What really happened? I heard that you were the only one awake-"

"If you're going to accuse my kid of kidnapping Flayn," Jeralt interrupts, voice sharp and dangerous. "Then I won't be content to just stand here quietly-"

"That was not my intention. I-"

"No, Seteth, enough." Rhea cuts in, glaring slightly. "We have Byleth right here. He can tell us what happened. Who did this? Was it the rumoured Death Knight? We have yet to see him again, although we cannot ignore the fact that he may be a part of this."

Seteth scowls to himself. 

Byleth takes note. He probably entertained the thought that he kidnapped Flayn, and thus was a target for his distrust, even though that couldn't be further from the truth.

He takes a deep breath, and a dangerous gamble.

Thirteen Divine Pulses. 

"It was Monica," Byleth says, monotone. 

"What?!" The woman in question shrieks. 

Well, Byleth wasn't entirely lying. "I was out on patrol with Linhardt when she struck us. I don't know when she kidnapped Flayn, but when I woke up, Flayn had been kidnapped as well."

Monica turns bright red, nearly as red as her hair. "He's lying," Monica spits. "I wouldn't do something like that!"

"I have no reason to lie," Byleth continues flatly. 

"These are serious accusations," Seteth steps in, eyebrows raised. "Do you have any proof?"

Keeping his tone as bland as possible, a very simple feat, Byleth cocks his own brow. "I was there when she knocked me out," Byleth continues. "I wouldn't mistake the one trying to kidnap me."

Monica begins to panic, hands fisting in her skirt. "I- I didn't do anything! These are unreasonable accusations! Unjust!"

Jeralt folds his hands across his chest. "Okay. Linhardt, come in."

Linhardt opens the door to the audience hall, face blank as ever. Byleth almost curses aloud. He forgot to factor in whether or not Linhardt had seen Monica before passing out, or whether or not he would confess to the Death Knight being the one to knock Byleth out.

"Linhardt," Rhea begins. "Was Monica the one to attack and kidnap you?"

The boy raises a hand to cover his yawn, but meets Byleth's eyes, not looking away for even a moment. "She was," Linhardt agrees. "Monica was, in fact, there."

Seteth straightens. "I've heard enough. Miss Monica, anything to say about that?"

Monica pales, turns green, and then turns red, all in quick succession. She looks at Rhea and Seteth, then Byleth and Linhardt. Jeralt steps in front of them, hand on the hilt of his sword. She turns to Cornelia, as if making a decision. 

Well, if she pulled out a weapon, Byleth would kill her. 

"She ordered me to do it," Monica spits, pointing at Cornelia with an accusing finger. "She was the one who- _guh-_"

Cornelia raises her hand, and Monica sinks to the floor, a hole in her chest. Sparks dance across her fingers. The girl sinks to the floor, hands desperately clawing at the wound, as if trying to scoop the blood back inside. 

"You... Betrayed..." Monica wheezes, and then dies.

Byleth feels nothing.

He wanted to be the one to do it.

"The desperate, false accusations of a desperate woman on death's door," Cornelia simpers, eyes cold. "Pay no attention. I ordered her to do nothing. I hope that you believe me, professor."

Byleth looks at her, gaze solemn. "If you say so," Byleth says, monotone. The blood seeps into Byleth boots and Byleth takes a deep breath of new air.

What does it mean, about them, that Linhardt is the only one to flinch away from this sudden death, the sudden sight of blood? Byleth allows Linhardt to tuck his face into his shoulder as Rhea orders the knights to clean up the mess.

A meaningless, hollow death befitting a meaningless, hollow woman. Byleth walks out of the chamber, shoulders lighter. 

He would think of a way to get rid of Cornelia later. Now, sleep.

.

There is a quiet knock on Byleth's door that night. He presses a pillow to his face and whines a little before sitting up on the bed. He's missed an entire month, and despite the fact that he was asleep for most of it, he felt as if he was awake the entire time. He has so many things to catch up on.

Sothis rolls over in the bed, rubbing at her eyes. "If that's Linhardt, don't answer."

_Linhardt would not knock._

She groans, stretching out, distinctly catlike. "You're right. Just in case, bring your sword."

Byleth complies without a word, opening the door with his right hand and hiding the sword behind it on his left.

Flayn stands behind the door, hands on her hips. "Professor," Flayn greets, trying her best to sound stern. 

He is momentarily stunned at the sight of her. "Flayn? It's the middle of the night. You should be sleeping."

"I could say that to you, many nights ago, and yet you still slipped into my room," Flayn drawls. "Don't think that I have forgotten."

Sothis swears up a storm, as Byleth opens the door wider for her to come in, already dreading the conversation.

Flayn steps inside, arms folded across her chest. "Leave the door open a bit," she demands, and Byleth cannot blame her. He props the sword against the wall and crosses the room in hopes of making her feel more safe.

Flayn gets straight to the point.

"May I begin with asking you what on earth you were doing in my room? You and Linhardt? If you do not divulge the truth, I will go to my brother right now and have him come after you."

Byleth doesn't see a way around this. He takes a deep, deep breath. "I'm from the future," he says, and Sothis screams into a pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahaha.... dun dun dun....
> 
> IDK HOW YOU THOUGHT THIS CHAPTER WAS GONNA GO BUT I BET THAT IT WASN'T LIKE THIS LOL or maybe it was? who knows? i certainly didn't. fuckin my brain was just like TEA PARTY WITH JERITZA. NOW. and i was just like lol okay 
> 
> ANYWAY I HOPE YOU LIKED THE CHAPTER AND THAT IT MADE UP FOR THE WAIT... FUCKING JERITZA IM GONNA SCREAM WHY ARE YOU SO HARD TO WRITE??????? FUCKIN..... H.......
> 
> i missed yall lol. sorry for not responding to your comments the entire week, i was so busy aaaaaaaa ill reply really soon i promise! we are back to our regular program now!
> 
> edit: everyone that read early pretend you didn't see my fuck up thanks
> 
> thank you so much for reading! ♡
> 
> byleth/dimitri C+ rank  
byleth/dedue C+ rank  
byleth/felix C+ rank  
byleth/annette C+ rank  
byleth/ingrid C+ rank  
byleth/sylvain B rank  
byleth/mercedes C+ rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt C+ rank  
byleth/ferdinand C rank  
byleth/lysithea C rank  
byleth/cyril C rank
> 
> byleth/caspar C rank  
byleth/flayn C rank
> 
> byleth/jeritza C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/claude C rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea C rank


	18. in the wake of you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY AAAAAA EVERYONE STOP WHAT YOU'RE DOING THAT LOVELY PERSON THAT MADE THE MEME VIDEO MADE ANOTHER MEME VIDEO AAAA PLEASE WATCH IT AND WATCH THE OTHER ONE IF YOU HAVE YET TO SEE IT BOTH ARE SO GOOD   
[beautiful video](https://mauve-moon.tumblr.com/post/189374436180/oops-i-did-it-again-here-is-another-meme)
> 
> aaaaaaa im super happy that yall liked the last chapter! since it's been a week, i thought i was off my groove, but im really glad u all liked that chapter ♡♡♡ it seriously means so so much thank you 
> 
> EHEHWHAJJSSJJSJ Y'ALL REALLY LIKED THE TEA PARTY HUH. THEHWIIAIAI IT WAS SO FUN TO WRITE SO IM HAPPY 
> 
> I STILL DONT HAVE A SHINY WOOLOO OR GALARIAN CORSOLA AAAAAAAAAA I WANT TO DEATH

For some reason, they're all kneeling in the center of Byleth's room.

Byleth began sitting with his back straight and his fists clenched across his lap, and Sothis precariously leaning across his back, but the more and more he kept retelling his story and the more scrunched up, disbelieving looks he received from Flayn, the more he slumps over and wilts.

"Divine Pulse," Sothis reminds him, but she is also not immune to Flayn's odd looks, and it soon becomes a chant. "Divine Pulse, Divine Pulse, Divine Pulse Divine Pulse Divine Pulse-"

_Sothis, I can hardly hear myself!_

"Perhaps it's a sign from some higher power that you should stop talking," Sothis retorts pointedly, curled up like a cat on his back. "I mean, look at her! Look at her judgemental face! She clearly doesn't believe you in the slightest!"

Byleth chances another look at Flayn. She's not looking at him anymore, actually, but she's got one hand to her chin and she's glaring at her lap as if it held all of the answers.

"So... that's it." Byleth says simply, finishing off with the shortened version of his untimely death. Actually, he was still sort of angry about his death. How could he die to a dagger? He's survived worse, much much worse, and yet he still died in such an unfortunate manner.

No, there was nothing he could do about it now. There was no reason to think on it any longer.

...But there Byleth was, still thinking about it, still wondering what he could have done to prevent dying, to protect Dima... 

"So I was kidnapped by the Death Knight," Flayn says, almost whimsical about the matter. "Therefore, in this lifetime, you burst into my room to try and prevent me from getting kidnapped in the first place. However, not only did you not prevent me from getting kidnapped, but you yourself got kidnapped, as well as Linhardt. Am I right?"

Byleth nods quietly.

Flayn takes a deep breath and stands. Byleth rises to join her, but she whips out an accusing finger at him and he immediately drops back to kneeling upright. "No, you stay down there," Flayn practically commands him, doing her best to emulate Seteth in her tone. "I still haven't decided if I believe you or not! And whether or not you had good intentions, you burst into a lady's room in the middle of the night!"

Sothis' fists are raining down on Byleth's back. "Byleth!"

_I know what you want to say,_ Byleth thinks back desperately, _but even if I used a Divine pulse, she would still come to my room! What do you think I should have done, Sothis?_

"I don't know," Sothis scoffs, "maybe not tell her that you are from the future?!"

_But I don't want her to think that Linhardt and I were intruding on her room for unsavory or nefarious reasons, Sothis._

"Lie and say you heard a sound or something from her-"

"Professor!" Flayn declares. Byleth's spine straightens.

"Yes?"

For some reason, his response seems to have thrown her. "For someone that may be in big trouble," Flayn comments, "you seem rather calm. Have you accepted that I am going to tell my big brother and have him rain hell down upon you and Linhardt?"

Byleth sighs quietly. "I'm telling the truth," he says softly, "I don't expect you to believe me, though. I genuinely was worried about your safety and well being, and realize only now how rude of me it was to simply burst into your room, regardless of intentions. I could have told you about-"

"But I would not have believed you," Flayn says, matter of factly. 

He inclines his head in response.

"Byleth?" Sothis whispers.

_Yes, Sothis?_

"When did you become eloquent without my know how?" Sothis demands, sounding so surprised that Byleth is almost insulted. "That apology was somewhat articulate! I am so very proud."

_Wow. Thank you, Sothis._

"I do not appreciate your sarcasm, Byleth-"

Flayn clears her throat. Maybe Byleth was conversing with Sothis too long, for it seems as if Flayn's come to a decision. He's absolutely ready for her to bolt out of the room and return with a bloodthirsty Seteth, eager to separate his head from his shoulders.

So when she gives him an appraising eyebrow, Byleth is almost surprised. 

"Professor," Flayn begins, doing her very best to sound serious. He politely pretends that he does not hear the cracking dip in her words. "I want to believe you. The entire time you've been here, you've seemed very kind. Even to me, someone not of your class. That's why... That's exactly why I want to believe you. But a war? Edelgard and the Adrestian empire declaring war on Fódlan and the church and using beasts as a means? That's almost too incredulous to believe, professor!"

Byleth nods. "I wouldn't expect you to believe me so simply." 

Sothis slaps her palm across her forehead. "Byleth, perhaps if you want her to believe you, maybe you should not try and convince her otherwise."

Flayn's fists clench in her dress for a moment. "You have said that I had joined the Blue Lions. That we were close allies and friends. So tell me. Tell me something about myself that you should not know, and I will believe you."

Byleth stares for a moment.

"Well?" Flayn demands, tapping her foot impatiently. "This should be easy for you. If you are from the future, and we were close, you should know something about me that you should not know in the moment. Or were you making all of this up?"

He purses his lips.

"Seteth is your father and not your big brother," Byleth blurts, hoping that will be enough.

Flayn goes wide eyed, mouth gaping wide open, alike to the fish she adores. Byleth tilts his head to one side, wondering if that was truly enough to convince Flayn. A thought occurs to him. "Oh. Your favorite fish is the Teutates herring," Byleth continues, hoping that it's enough to sway her opinion.

"No, no, wait, what?!" Flayn demands. "What did you say?"

"Your favorite fish is the Teutates herring," Byleth repeats dutifully. 

"No, professor, you know what I mean! The thing you said before!" Flayn demands, a wild look in her eyes.

Byleth makes a tiny sound of understanding. "Ah. Seteth is your father."

Flayn sinks to the floor slowly, fingers to her temples. She's mumbling to herself loudly. Byleth allows her to mumble in peace.

"But... Father... Did I ever...? No, it has to... Why did...?"

Sothis sighs, finally relaxing against Byleth's back. "I think that you broke her," she comments quietly.

Flayn continues to mumble to herself for a few moments longer.

"Okay!" Flayn declares, startling Byleth out of his daze. "Tell me the story again."

Byleth really just wants to sleep. "Can this wait until morning?" He pauses. "Please?"

"No," Flayn says, shaking her head so hard her hair whips around with the movement. "No, tell me again, professor. This time, I'll listen properly. I believe you now."

.

Apparently, Byleth, Flayn and Linhardt have not been kidnapped for long. It's still Horsebow Moon, although late in the month, and Byleth has missed Petra's birthday, but not Dorothea's. He's trying to think of plans to celebrate but it's really difficult when he's half asleep and trying to teach a class.

Byleth still can't wrap his head around the fact that it took everyone less than two weeks to find them. He's still really surprised. The month wasn't even over yet, and yet everything seemed odd.

For one, his students were definitely being odd.

Flayn had finally left his room an hour before classes started, finally satisfied with his story. He couldn't sleep for another half hour, because Sothis was yelling at him that entire time before passing out.

Thirty minutes later, he woke to the sounds of polite knocking at his door, and found Dedue on the other side, who offered to walk him to class.

Which was good and fine. Byleth loved Dedue. He enjoyed the polite, amicable silence they could share, and the soothing quiet of his presence. However, Byleth could not help but notice all of the Blue Lions try and subtly follow them. Byleth pretends like he isn't seeing Mercedes' getting her hair stuck in the bushes nor Ferdinand accidentally bumping into walls in an attempt to not let his eyes leave Byleth.

He supposes that they must have been slightly worried about him, so he allows them to follow both himself and Dedue without pointing them out. They reach the classroom without much fanfare, although he does see Claude and Hilda laughing hysterically at the Blue Lions' attempt to be sneaky and hide behind the benches.

Byleth politely turns a blind eye as he enters the classroom with Dedue. The boy slides into his desk without a sound.

"Professor!" Annette calls out, as she enters the Blue Lions classroom, like she didn't just follow him here for the past ten minutes. Mercedes and the rest of the Blue Lions follow close behind, far too casual to be genuine. She bounds up to him, and throws his arms around him, jumping into his arms. "I'm so glad to see you!"

Byleth catches the girl easily, twirling her around so he doesn't stumble under her weight. He sets her down. "You saw me yesterday," he tells her, and for some reason that makes her giggle.

"But I didn't see you for over a week," she whines. "And I was so worried about you!"

"What happened to you, professor?" Ashe asks, settling down into his desk. "Seteth nor Rhea nor your father would give us any details beyond the fact that that Monica did it!"

"That's right," Byleth begins, tapping a finger against his chin. "Annette, please head to your desk. Thank you all for saving Linhardt, Flayn and I. I'm proud of you."

The Blue Lions flush a delicate rosy pink at the compliment, but Byleth does not notice. "Okay. Can you tell me what you did in class while we were absent?"

"Woah, professor," Sylvain cuts in. "I can't help but notice that you dodged Ashe's question! What happened? Why were you all kidnapped?"

Byleth shrugs. To be honest, he still had no idea why he was kidnapped. Likely something to do with Edelgard, but he wasn't entirely aware of the specifics of the situation. 

There was that pinprick on Flayn's neck, there was the fact that it seemed as if they did not touch Linhardt nor himself, and then there was Jeritza, who didn't seem to join the battle this time. At least, Byleth was not sure of it. He distinctly remembers a really terrible tea party with the man, and how riled up he seemed whenever Byleth mentioned Mercedes, but Dimitri had seemed confused when Byleth had brought him up.

Byleth was also extremely wary. Did the Flame Emperor appear this time? Why did Cornelia just kill Monica like that? Not to mention, Dimitri was... 

"I don't know," Byleth says simply. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I also don't know why I was kidnapped."

"I think we were just," Linhardt begins, interrupting himself with a yawn, "in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Sothis huffs. "I feel as if this boy is only helpful when it may be entirely unnecessary," she says, looking at the boy with narrowed eyes.

"I have questions for you as well," Byleth says. "How did you all find us so fast?"

"What do you mean, professor?" Mercedes inquires.

Byleth cannot say 'because in my past life it took us a month to find Flayn.' Instead, he shrugs.

All of the Blue Lions look at each other, save for Dimitri, who is diligently staring at his lap instead of anywhere near Byleth. Byleth doesn't read too much into it.

"Well," Ingrid begins, folding her arms across her chest. "We didn't see you at breakfast, which we kinda shrugged off at first because you haven't been sleeping well lately and we assumed that you were just sleeping in- anyway. Not the point. We went to class and neither you nor Linhardt showed up for an hour."

Byleth's just surprised they waited in class for him for an entire hour. "And then?" Byleth prods carefully.

"And then," Cyril speaks up, running a hand through his curls. "Then we went to look for you guys. We thought you both were sleeping in. But you weren't in your rooms. So we went to go see your father to see if you were with him, and we went to the Black Eagles classroom to see if Linhardt was there..."

No one speaks. Byleth hums in acknowledgement. "What happened next?"

"We went to your dad," Annette says slowly, drawing the syllables out. "And he... He, uh..."

"He absolutely lost it," Felix cuts in, suddenly impatient. All of the Blue Lions shoot him a wide eyed look. "What? It's true."

"It felt as if he knew more than he was letting on," Ingrid continues, slapping a hand over Felix's mouth. "He immediately stormed out of the room, called his mercenaries, and marched to the audience chamber to, uh, yell, at Rhea. But he wasn't the only one. Seteth burst in soon after asking after Flayn."

Lysithea breathes out a little puff of air. "Ergo, kidnapping. Your father was so angry at Seteth. Did you know Seteth thought you had taken Flayn and Linhardt and ran? Ridiculous."

"I thought I was about to see the Blade Breaker in action," Felix says, sounding as if he was genuinely looking forward to it.

"Felix, not now!"

Byleth feels a little pleased. Perhaps it was odd to feel happy that someone was willing to throw down on the gauntlet on his behalf, but he was content nonetheless.

He cannot blame his father for being worried. Especially with the things he's told him. Hell, if any of his students, or his father, or the mercenaries got kidnapped, Byleth would likely be angry as well.

Byleth doesn't realize that his students are still talking until Felix says something that lays a hush upon the room.

"...Besides, the professor didn't see how the _boar_ was acting when he was gone. An animal bending the knee because of their m-"

"**_Felix,_**" Dimitri warns, and Byleth only realizes that this is the first time he's spoken since he's entered the room.

Even he can sense the tension simmering just beneath the surface. Byleth, in a hurry to change the subject, clears his throat. "Okay, everyone. That's enough."

But Felix is not done. "What is it, boar?" Felix spits. "Afraid you'll show the professor what's really lurking underneath those shallow depths? Afraid you won't be the perfect prince in front of him anymore? Pity."

Dimitri's fist clenches around his quill, and it snaps in half. The sound seems to echo around the classroom.

"Please don't fight-"

"Hey, guys-"

"Everyone-"

"That's enough," Sylvain declares, standing from his seat. His voice is hard enough that even Sothis snaps to attention. "Felix, cool it. Seriously."

"But that boar-"

"I know," Sylvain says, tone serious. "But this is not the time or the place. You might say something you'll regret later. Everyone's on edge right now."

Felix makes a sound resembling a growl before slumping in his seat and kicking a table leg. "Whatever."

When it doesn't seem like Felix will protest any longer, Sylvain slumps back down into his chair, looking exhausted. Byleth sympathizes.

"Your highness," Dedue says softly, cupping his hands around the hand that has broken the quill. "Let go of the quill. You may cut yourself on any of the sharp edges."

Dimitri takes a deep, deep breath.

He releases the pieces of the quill, and they fall into Dedue's hands. Dedue sets them on the corner of their shared table. "Professor," Dedue begins. "Could we borrow an extra quill?"

"I- I have one!" Ashe says, turning around and sliding a spare quill across their table. Dedue nods in thanks, and then nudges Dimitri softly.

Byleth watches as Dimitri visibly shakes himself out of whatever trance he's in to accept the quill. "Thank you, Ashe," Dimitri says, with a brittle smile.

The Blue Lions classroom is filled with the sort of heavy air and tension that Byleth wants to crumple under. He rustles a few papers at the front to have something to do with himself instead of wilt under the pressure.

Despite his two lifetimes, Byleth spoke better with a blade than with words. 

"...I hope you all did not neglect your training," Byleth says, softly.

The entire room bursts, eager to answer and to dispel the raising apprehension. "I obviously did my very best, as usual, in my training!" Ferdinand offers, bright and chipper.

"I learned a new spell," Mercedes adds, doing her best to ease the awkwardness.

Sylvain raises a hand in a smug manner. Byleth has no idea of how he was capable of doing such a feat smugly. "Well, I didn't train much," he says honestly.

"Sylvain!"

"Sylvain..."

"Seriously?!"

Byleth catches his wink and lazy stretch of his arms. He appreciates his attempts to make everyone shake off the odd tension.

Just as soon as the pressure had seemed to disperse, Flayn bursts into the room, Seteth hot on her heels.

"Hi, professor!" Flayn says, cheerily, with a wave. "I'm joining your class!"

"No, you are not," Seteth tells her, and judging by his tone he's had to repeat it several times.

"Yes I am," Flayn declares.

"No you are not."

"Yes, I am."

"Flayn, it is very dangerous! Even though your kidnapper is far gone we cannot ignore the fact that there are many other people that would wish to kidnap you!"

Flayn shoots Byleth a grand smile before she slams the door of the Blue Lions classroom shut. Yelling starts up behind the door, and a few of the Blue Lions immediately sidle up behind it and press their ears to the wood.

Byleth doesn't understand why. He can hear the bickering family from the front of the room. 

"...It has been a very long time since I have been a child...!"

"You don't understand how dangerous it is to..."

A moment of silence. 

The door bursts open and the Blue Lions go sprawling. 

"I'm joining your class!" Flayn declares, clapping her hands together cheerfully. Byleth does not miss the heavy glare Seteth's shooting him, and he and Sothis share a look.

.

After initial greetings and after class, Dimitri strides up to Byleth with the sureness of a war-hardened general stepping into yet another battlefield, confident that he will walk off of it again. "Professor," Dimitri greets, and Byleth has just lifted a hand in greeting when his hand is yanked away.

"Felix?" Byleth asks, confused, as the boy whisks him away from the prince, practically stomping away.

Felix says nothing as he drags Byleth out of Dimitri's direct vicinity, pulling at his hand harshly. Byleth allows this for a few moments, before deciding to say something about it. 

"Did you want to hold hands?" Byleth asks coolly. For some reason this makes Felix flush furiously and stomp away with even more aggression. He watches the boy go, now with more questions than answers.

This continues for quite some time throughout the rest of the day. Whenever Dimitri even so much as looks at Byleth, Felix appears out of nowhere and drags Byleth away by the hand, the wrist, an arm around the shoulders. 

Byleth indulges him for a little while longer until Dimitri begins to look like a kicked puppy and Dedue is sending Byleth almost pleading glances. 

The next time this happens, Byleth confronts Felix.

"Are you ready to explain why you've been trying to make sure that Dimitri and I never interact as of late?" Byleth asks, gently freeing his hands from Felix's tight grasp.

"I'm just surprised that it took you this long to ask," Felix spits, brows furrowing together. He looks shaken.

Byleth waits patiently. Finally, Felix collects himself.

"You need to be careful around him, professor." Felix warns, an underlying danger hiding just underneath the surface of his tone. "You don't know what he was like when you were kidnapped. More beast than boar. He's dangerous. You don't know what lies beneath that veneer of polite prince, professor. Trust me."

Byleth does not want to dismiss his student's concern, but wasn't it far too early for Dimitri to allow his wrath to make itself known? 

"When I was kidnapped?" Byleth prods softly.

Felix shakes his head, dodging the question. "It's not safe for you to be near him," he insists, avoiding the question entirely. Byleth frowns. He wasn't entirely convinced that his disappearance was enough to startle Dimitri that much. "He's not what you think he is."

"What I think he is?" Byleth asks. 

Felix nods solemnly. "Yes. That boar-"

"I just think that he's Dimitri," Byleth says simply. "That's all."

Inexplicably, the boy looks stunned. Then, he narrows his eyes. "No one knows that boar like I do," Felix says. "So you have no idea of how much danger you could be in."

"I never claimed that I know him more than you," Byleth says.

"That's not what I-"

"Felix," Byleth begins, and Felix falls silent. "Thank you for worrying about me. You're kind. I won't dismiss your worry, I promise. I'll be careful."

The boy says nothing for a moment before he scowls and brushes a few stray strands out of his face. "You shouldn't become any closer to him than this. He's already too attached, that boar. He's always- no, never mind. Duel me, professor."

Now, this is a ground Byleth feels steady upon. "You're on, Felix."

.

A firm knock at the door.

Byleth sighs. Recently, his space has been invaded by so many people. Sothis, taking up seven eights of his bed, Jeritza, who appeared briefly in his room several nights before, a curious Flayn, a worried Dedue, and now potentially, someone else.

He glances briefly over at Sothis, fast asleep in the gap between the wall and the bed, limbs sprawled everywhere. For a moment, he considers waking her, but ultimately decides that she needs her rest and that he's still got the day's Divine Pulses at the ready.

Byleth opens the door and Dimitri is standing on the other side, cheeks splotchy pink. He's biting down on his lip, near the point of bleeding.

His eyes are dark.

"...Can I help you, Dimitri?" Byleth asks, a little cautious. Although he's sure that he has yet to let all of his anger rise to the surface, Felix had been sure that he had seen something. Felix had always been incredibly observant, a skill that served him in battle and off battle. Although he was blunt and had no filter, Felix was quite intelligent. Byleth would not let down his guard.

Dimitri blinks, and then gives Byleth a once over, as if memorizing every bit of him, drinking in the sight. Byleth doesn't know how to explain such a gaze, so he ignores it entirely. 

"May I come in?" Dimitri asks, and Byleth wordlessly cracks open the door to allow the prince to pass inside. "Thank you."

Dimitri is about to sit down on the edge of the bed before he realizes it might be rude, so he looks at Byleth again. "May I please sit here?" Byleth nods, and he settles in onto the mattress. "Thank you, professor."

"I hope you don't mind," Byleth says, barely a whisper. "Seteth has given me some paperwork to catch up on. I'll have to work on it, so my attention will be divided. I hope that's alright."

"It's fine," Dimitri whispers. "I just- I just..."

Byleth hums. "You don't have to force yourself to tell me right away. Just take your time. I'll be here."

A sharp intake of breath. Byleth does not notice, pulling out the wooden chair of his desk and sitting down on it unceremoniously. He casts a brief fire spell upon the candle to light it. 

To be honest, he was going to ignore the paperwork, but he needs to find a way to keep himself awake as Dimitri finds his words. Byleth picks up his quill, dabs it briefly in a bottle of ink, and begins to write.

"Wh- what are you writing about, professor?" Dimitri asks, still soft.

Byleth brings the feather end of the quill to his lips. "Mm. Something about battalions. Because of my prior work as a mercenary, Seteth has been giving me small reports to fill out from time to time."

"About?"

"Work ethic," Byleth replies, starting to write again. "How much we pay them, how much it takes to restore their weapons, and so on and so forth."

Byleth thinks that the conversation is over, but Dimitri immediately asks another question. "I had no idea that you are in charge of such a thing."

"It's not something that you need to really know," Byleth responds slowly. He dips the end in ink once more. "Allow me to take on these simple burdens. It's of no real matter."

"O-oh."

Inexplicably, it feels as if Dimitri's gaze holds true physical weight and heat. Byleth knows that Dimitri is probably looking at his back, searching for words, but his stare is so intense Byleth can feel it upon his skin. He sighs.

"Are you ready to talk with me, Dimitri?" Byleth asks, looking at him over his shoulder.

Dimitri doesn't answer, in favor of staring at Byleth's face. It's not until Byleth quirks an eyebrow that Dimitri looks away. "Sorry. I didn't come here with any specific reason. I just... wanted to make sure that you were still here."

"I'm here," Byleth reassures him softly. "And I'm fine. There's no need to worry anymore."

"You don't understand, professor," Dimitri says. "I just... I just don't know how to explain it. I just wanted to see you. I missed you."

Byleth blinks. "I'm right here."

Inexplicably, this makes Dimitri laugh. "I know. But I... When you were kidnapped, I didn't know what to do. Usually, when I am in need of guidance, you are right there, ready to support and encourage me. But this time..."

Dimitri stands from the bed slowly. It creaks in protest as he crosses the short distance between them.

"When you speak," Dimitri begins, teetering dangerously between dark promise and soft, simple affection, "it quiets everything else."

_Everything else?_

Byleth ignores Sothis snoring in the corner of his room. "You and I are the only ones here," Byleth says.

"Were that it were true," Dimitri mumbles, heartbreakingly quiet. 

"It's just us," Byleth informs him. "You're okay, Dimitri."

There is a moment where nothing moves, and then suddenly Dimitri's hand is near Byleth's neck. It takes every inch of self control for Byleth to not flinch away or call his sword.

Dimitri's index finger settles on the hollow of Byleth's throat, and Byleth ceases to breathe. It's a barely-there pressure, feather soft, but still there, and still too intimate for Byleth's tastes.

"You have a beauty mark here," Dimitri comments, too casual. "Just a tiny one, difficult to see, but there nonetheless."

Byleth gently bats Dimitri's hand away to run his own fingers over the spot, as if he could touch it himself. "I haven't noticed," Byleth replies softly.

"There's a legend in Faerghus," Dimitri says, stepping out of Byleth's personal space and holding his hands behind his back as if preventing himself to touch Byleth any more than this, "a legend that says that a beauty mark or a mole represents a wound one has received in their past life."

For a moment, Byleth freezes.

Was Dimitri-

He allows himself to dwell on the thought a moment longer before mentally shaking his head. No. Unless Sothis had been secretly living in Dimitri's body as well, there was no way. Byleth was absolutely confident. 

"I'll still be here in the morning," Byleth says abruptly, and Dimitri seems to shake himself out of whatever trance made him so bold. "So it's okay. Sleep well, Dimitri. Don't think that I have not seen those eye bags."

Knowing a dismissal when he heard one, Dimitri steps away from Byleth and towards the door. He's smiling, dimples showing. Any trace of darkness still lingering is still flickering briefly across the prince's face, haloed by candlelight. "Good night, professor," Dimitri says. "Don't you dare think that I have forgotten about the Death Knight. Or about the secrets you are hiding. Sleep well."

Dimitri leaves the room, shutting the door gently behind him. 

"Good night," Byleth tells the air, and then blows out the candle.

.

"That's enough for today," Byleth tells the Blue Lions, wiping sweat from his brow. "Good work, everyone."

The sun was already setting upon the very next day. Byleth had to work on a training regimen for Flayn, who he knew had weaker defense than most, and was skilled with magic, so he paired her up with Dedue for sparring. Although Dedue was a wall, Flayn did manage to get some really good hits in, which seemed to even the odds.

Like the other additions to their class, the Blue Lions had taken to Flayn quite quickly. He appreciated that they did not treat her like glass, nor Linhardt. Especially not after Byleth had relieved some stress taking Felix down with one swing. He was still very, very angry that he was managed to be knocked out by Jeritza.

Speaking of Jeritza, Byleth was curious as to where he went. He asked Mercedes, and a few of the staff, and yet no one seemed to really know. Manuela had commented about seeing him sometime after the kidnapping, but other than that, apparently nothing. Byleth kind of wants to kick down his door. He probably was no longer there, but he indulged the thought for a moment longer before tossing such thoughts aside. Another time.

His father opens the door to the training hall suddenly, flanked by the mercenaries. "Hey, Byleth. Training okay? Didn't find anything wrong?"

Byleth shakes his head, and then turns back towards the Blue Lions. "Please clean up before you leave. You are dismissed. Please go and have dinner."

"Where are you going, professor?" Ferdinand asks, and Byleth has a feeling that they want to tag along to protect his dignity or something else as equally ridiculous. 

"Nope," Jeralt says, shaking his head. "Brats can't come. We're going to a tavern."

"I am an adult," Sylvain informs them. The mercenaries all laugh as one.

"Captain said no brats," a mercenary says, shaking their heads. "Besides, we've been planning this outing for awhile and-"

Several mercenaries cover their friends' mouth with their hands, shushing him.

Byleth tilts his head to one side. "You have? But you told me about this only this morning?" He glances at his father, but the man only shrugs. 

"We're stealing Byleth away for the evening," the mercenaries say, grabbing Byleth from all sides. Byleth sighs and allows himself to be kidnapped. 

Jeralt ruffles his hair affectionately, then gives the Blue Lions a brief look that can only spell trouble. "Happy birthday, kiddo," Jeralt says, fondly. His smile crinkles affectionately around the edges.

"Oh," Byleth says. "I had forgotten." 

"You forgot?!" Sothis shrieks, a tad bit incredulous. "Even I know when your birthday is!"

_Sothis, we share a body._

She sticks her nose up at him. "Well, this is your body, and you don't know your own birthday! I wished you happy birthday this morning but you were half asleep and waved me off! Goodness, Byleth!"

_You did? Thank you, Sothis._

"W-well, you don't need to thank me..." Sothis mumbles, a little shy now.

"Professor!" Annette declares loudly. "It's your birthday?! And _you didn't tell us?!_"

"It's not that important," Byleth tells them, shaking his head. "I hardly remember my age."

Ashe sputters. "Not that important? Professor, you always go all out whenever someone has a birthday! Let us celebrate together!"

Mercedes claps her hands together with an innocent glee. "Let's make a cake, professor!"

"Nuh uh," a mercenary says, clinging to Byleth's arm. "We called dibs. We bought gifts. Get in line."

"On that note," Jeralt says, a little more cheerful than usual. "We're kidnapping your professor. See you."

Before he's dragged out the door, he can see the Blue Lions huddle together. Whatever that was, he could worry about later.

.

It didn't take long for the mercenaries to get absolutely drunk. 

They're standing on tables, singing shanties, weeping on Byleth's shoulder about how old he is now and how cute he was as a child and how they thought his hair being paler was some sort of rebellious phase- all sorts of embarrassing things. They keep singing happy birthday every hour, raising their mugs of beer to the ceiling and being a general nuisance. Unfortunately for Byleth, their energy was infectious, and it didn't take long for the entire tavern to get rowdy, too.

Byleth sighs, but can't hide a smile. He's carefully moving his meat pie occasionally to make sure a drunken mercenary or otherwise patron of the tavern steps on his food in the bar. "Have you admitted defeat yet, father?" Byleth asks Jeralt, raising his own mug to his lips. Sothis has already passed out in the back of his mind. "Besides, you know that you are not supposed to drink this much."

Jeralt pats Byleth's back affectionately. "It's fine, it's just one night. And it's your birthday." His father has raised his voice so he can be heard over the cacophony of noise. "We gotta celebrate."

"If you are going to give me a birthday gift then give me the gift of you stopping drinking."

Jeralt makes a grunt. "That's right. I do have a gift for you, Byleth."

Byleth feels like an excited child again, waiting for his father to present him a gift on his birthday. Jeralt presents him to him a dagger. Byleth gasps when he sees it. He knows this weapon. He knows the curve of the blade, the design upon it, the monotone colours that gleam in the dusty, yellow light of the tavern.

Byleth knows this dagger. He knows this blade, this weapon, because it is what Kronya used to kill his father in his past life.

"I had a sheath made for it," his father tells him, presenting him with a black leather cover for the dagger. "You told me that I died in your past life to this same dagger. So, here it is. My life, in your hands."

Byleth immediately slips it into the sheath and pushes it back into his father's hands. "I don't want it," Byleth says, and despite everything, his voice is shaking.

Jeralt pushes it back towards him. "Take it. Okay, I'm sorry about the comment about my life being in your hands. That was insensitive of me. I don't plan on dying any time soon, and you better not be dying either. But you told me about how this wasn't any old dagger. Manuela did say something about how it killed my insides or something more eloquent than that, right? Well, I think a weapon like this would go to waste in the hands of someone like Monica. Rhea told me to take care of the body, and she had this on her. I'm surprised that she didn't use it on me."

"_Don't say that,_" Byleth pleads, and then leans his head on his father's shoulder. "Please don't say things like that."

"I'm sorry," Jeralt says, sincere, and full of regret. "But, kiddo. I seriously want you to take this. It'll give me peace of mind."

Byleth glances down at the Sword of the Creator, attached to his hip, then glances back at his father. Jeralt snorts.

"You know just as well as I do that the more weapons, especially hidden ones, the better."

Byleth sighs, relenting. He takes the dagger from his father's hands, shaking quietly. He glances down at it, and unlike the emptiness he felt while looking at Monica at his feet, he feels a dark rage crawling up his throat, desperate to be freed.

"Couldn't you have gotten me a normal dagger?" Byleth asks, and his father laughs. He tucks the dagger into his cloak and feels wildly uncomfortable at the added weight. 

"I also bought you some new gauntlets," Jeralt says, a little quieter now. "But they are back at the academy."

"Thank you," Byleth says, trying to forget the weight of that dagger in his hands.

Jeralt nudges him with his elbow. His father carefully scans the tavern, and listens to the level of the loud noise in the tavern before dropping his voice to a whisper. "Come on. Tell me stories about that... that past of yours. You told me the important things, but I wanna hear the smaller details too."

Catching on to his father's attempts to change the subject, Byleth quirks the side of his lips and takes another swig of his drink. "What would you like to know?"

His father stares down into his drink, then smiles at Byleth. "I don't know. Maybe about the Blue Lions, grown up? Like that princeling. That kid went kinda wild when you were gone, huh. Tell me about the him from your future."

"Ah," Byleth says. "Well, I called him Dima. Dima and Dimitri are two entirely different people, as of right now."

Jeralt nods along, taking another sip. 

"Ah, that's right," Byleth says, a little distracted. "I was going to marry him."

Byleth watches in complete and utter awe as his father spits out his drink. "_You were going to what?!_" His father shrieks, and Byleth briefly deliberates on the fact that he's never heard his father's voice become so high pitched before, when he realizes what he's just said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> phew! chapter done! 
> 
> tbh im still not really done done. i was gonna add more content THEN IT GOT TOO LONG AND AAAAAAA OH GOSH but definitely all the stuff i wanted is gonna be in the next chapter! it was so fun to write this chapter cause it was one of my fav kinds to write- secret plot. and the next one will be just as fun ;)
> 
> YOU GUYS ARE SERIOUSLY WILDING WITH THE SUPPORT AAAAA. THANK YOU SERIOUSLY YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING I LOVE YOU I HOPE YALL ENJOYED THIS CHAPTER
> 
> thanks so much for reading ♡
> 
> byleth/dimitri C+ rank  
byleth/dedue C+ rank  
byleth/felix C+ rank  
byleth/annette C+ rank  
byleth/ingrid C+ rank  
byleth/sylvain B rank  
byleth/mercedes C+ rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt C+ rank  
byleth/ferdinand C rank  
byleth/lysithea C rank  
byleth/cyril C rank  
byleth/flayn C+ rank
> 
> byleth/caspar C rank
> 
> byleth/jeritza C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/claude C rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea C rank


	19. the pride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHH EVERYONE PLEASE LOOK AT THIS CUTE ART THAT KIRAKIRAPOTATO DID AAAAAAA [cute art](https://kirakirapotatoe.tumblr.com/post/189453118839/i-like-how-the-blue-lion-kids-being-bad-at-stealth)
> 
> HOLY FUCKERONI THIS CHAPTER WAS HARD AND EASY TO WRITE AT THE SAME TIME I DONT EVEN KNOW MAN BUT HERE WE ARE SHAHHAJAJAJJSJ
> 
> guess who still doesn't have shiny corsola or wooloo? i am so close to giving up but like then what was the point of doing all that aaaahhhhhh

After Byleth helps his father guide the trashed mercenaries into their assigned barracks, and after his father pushes another gift in his hands and kisses him on the forehead softly like he did when he was a child, Byleth finds himself sitting on his bed, examining the dagger.

He pulls it out of the sheath and luxuriates in the sound of a singing blade. Casting a small fire spell, Byleth examines the dagger- nothing about it seemed out of ordinary. Byleth could already tell by the sound- it was sharpened and created by someone who knew their way around daggers. He did not begrudge the dagger, rather, the person who wielded it, but he still didn't want to keep it. 

It's as if Byleth's become possessed. An urge washes over him, at first slowly, then all at once. The tiniest temptation, a small whisper multiplying into the roaring echo of a crowd. He wants to touch the dagger, press the tip of the blade to his fingers. It's a mind numbing curiosity, one that he's almost about to act out on-

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Sothis says quietly. She's materialized next to him, a hand on his. Her skin is almost shockingly cold. 

Byleth stares at the dagger for a moment. "You're right," Byleth whispers back. "I don't know what came over me."

"I tend to be right," Sothis slurs. Byleth has only now remembered that she is affected by what Byleth drinks.

He laughs a little. "Sothis, are you drunk?"

"If I was, it'd- it's- it would be your fault," she declares. "Idi- idi- dummy." Although Byleth is inherently aware that no one can hear her anyway, he shushes her, still chuckling. He supposes that he was still affected by the infectious attitude of his father's mercenaries. Laughter did not come to him so easily.

Sothis, surprised at his laughter, allows a giggle past her lips. 

"I'm glad you're awake," Byleth tells her, setting the dagger aside on his pillows and standing from his bed. "I was worried that the day would end before I could say it."

"Say what?"

"Happy birthday, Sothis."

She blinks, then, uncharacteristically, she raises a finger at herself, a quiet question.

Byleth smiles, reaching up to his shelves to bring down his tea pot, and two cups. "Yes, you, Sothis. Happy birthday. I'm very glad that you were the one to inhabit my body."

Sothis snorts. "Yes, well, it's not as if there were an abundance of bodies to take. And you certainly kept me waiting! And what is with your memory, remembering only some things and absolutely forgetting the rest!?"

Byleth rummages through his drawers for the Seiros tea he was setting aside for this occasion. "Okay," Byleth says. "Come with me, but close your eyes."

"What?"

He huffs dramatically, as if her question was a bother. "I said, close your eyes, Sothis."

"This is moronic," Sothis announces, but closes her eyes obediently. Byleth does not hide his smile. 

Balancing the tea pot and cups in one hand, Byleth takes Sothis by the other hand and heads toward the dining hall to boil some water. He catches her peeking and arches his eyebrows at her. 

Sothis rolls her eyes, but Byleth can see her flush indignantly. 

Once the tea pot has been filled with hot water, he takes her hand again and directs her towards the greenhouse, glancing back occasionally to make sure her eyes are closed. Sothis' eyes are clenched shut, and she's frowning with the force of her expression.

Byleth cannot hold back another chuckle. "Okay," Byleth says, "open your eyes."

Sothis opens one eye very slowly. Then the other. She stares.

At their feet in the greenhouse, a row of purple zinnia flowers are blooming, dewy in the moonlight. 

"I had no idea what to give a goddess," Byleth says, slightly nervous now. "I did not even know that zinnia flowers existed. Apparently my mother enjoyed them. I had to ask my father and the mercenaries for help in breeding them so you wouldn't know. It is very hard to make gifts a surprise if you share a body with them."

The nervousness is making the words just fly from his lips. And Sothis has yet to say a word.

Another moment.

"You..." Sothis begins, and just as abruptly, cuts herself off. "You. When did you...?"

Byleth shrugs. "You fall asleep often. I just had to to my best not to think about the gift, so you wouldn't bother to look in my memories for it." Byleth tells her. "Oh, that's right. If you dislike these, I can apparently breed green zinnia. Or red. Or yellow. I also bought you an armoured bear, but I didn't know if you would like that."

"Well, you had no idea if I would even like flowers," Sothis spits, and Byleth freezes in place. "Besides. You know I cannot touch these, right? What would I do with flowers?"

"Admire them?" Byleth asks, shoulders tight with worry. "I can always get you something else. When you have a body, you can do whatever you want with these flowers. We can figure it out together."

Sothis crouches down, eye level with the flowers. She reaches out to one, and her fingers pass through the petals. 

Byleth does not know how to explain the look on her face. Something about her expression, highlighted under the pale light of the moon, is so very melancholy that Byleth is stunned into silence.

"Get me some tea," Sothis says.

Byleth blinks.

"Now, Byleth!" 

"But you cannot drink it, Sothis."

Byleth cannot see her face, but Byleth can sense her frown. "Well, you got the two tea cups for a reason, right? Get me some tea!"

He huffs in response. He was intending on having a pseudo tea party with Sothis, but it was odd to be commanded to have tea with someone.

Jeritza comes to mind. Byleth makes a face at the thought of him, and busies himself with preparing the cups of Seiros tea, sitting cross-legged on the greenhouse floor.

When he looks up from the steaming cups, Sothis is sitting in front of him. Byleth's mouth gapes slightly. "What?!" Sothis demands. "Got anything to say?"

Tucked into her hair are two purple zinnia flowers, somehow held up by her ornamental head piece. Byleth closes his mouth, then opens it again. "How did you-"

Sothis tilts her chin up arrogantly, as if looking down on him. "I said, got anything to say to me?"

Byleth closes his mouth, and Sothis nods. "That's what I thought," she says. "Well, go on! You know I cannot drink this myself!"

He hurries to pick up the cup and take a sip. Instead of drinking from her cup, Sothis swirls a finger around the rim. "Well?" Sothis asks. "How is it?"

"It's good," Byleth tells her after a moment, letting the flavour fill his mouth. "I prefer black teas over fruity teas."

Sothis reaches up into her hair to adjust her flowers almost nervously, but Byleth isn't sure that they would ever move. "When... when I had a body," Sothis begins, and Byleth struggles not to choke on his tea lest he interrupt her, "I think that I liked black tea."

"Oh?" Byleth prompts, hoping she would continue.

"I don't know," Sothis persists. "Perhaps it is because you like it that I like the tea."

"That's fine," Byleth replies. "When you get your body, I will make you this tea again so we can figure it out together."

The goddess smiles at him. "That sounds wonderful, Byleth. It's a promise. Oh. And make me some sandwiches. And those cookies you bring to your tea parties. I am not even sure that I have had cookies before."

Something comes to mind, unprompted. "Sothis?"

"Yes, Byleth?"

"How much do you remember about your past, again?" Byleth asks, pouring himself another cup. "For some reason... I thought that you remembered some things...? Am I remembering wrong? Like you have said many times, my memory is not impressive. Perhaps your memories are the key..."

No answer.

Byleth looks up at Sothis to see her already staring at him, face wiped of any and all emotion. "Sothis?"

"Can we not talk about this right now?" Sothis says, voice hard. "It's our birthday. A later time. I promise."

Something about her expression silences Byleth's thoughts. "Okay," Byleth relents. "But later. You promised."

"Later," she agrees, practically staring a hole through him. "Have you decided what to do with that dagger?"

Byleth knows an out when he sees one, even as dense as he normally is with social queues. "Ah. I guess that I am keeping it. It was a gift, after all."

"I think it'll be useful," Sothis agrees easily. "Manuela said that it was a strange weapon, sometime in your past life, correct? A hidden weapon is always useful, Byleth. You would do well to hide it.

He frowns at the thought of using the weapon. "I understand," Byleth allows, and really, he does, he just never wants to use the dagger. 

"Bestow upon it a name," Sothis suggests, watching the steam rise from their cups and disappear into the air. "You cannot keep thinking of it as 'the dagger' or 'that weapon' forever, Byleth."

"But it is just a dagger."

"If so, then why are you so angry?"

Byleth blinks. "I'm not."

"You are," Sothis insists, gesturing down to Byleth's clenched fists. He loosens them up, and she smirks. "Byleth. It's alright. You will not let your father die this time. The dagger will be a tool for you to rid yourself of your enemies. It is only a dagger, Byleth. And you are above it."

The tea swirls soundlessly in the cup.

"I'll name it pointy," Byleth says.

Sothis' jaw actually drops. "You are not naming it pointy."

Byleth feels a little offended. "What is wrong with the name?"

"Absolutely everything," Sothis says. 

Byleth can feel himself actually pout. "Fine. What are your ideas?"

She puffs up a little at being addressed. "Well, what about the dagger of-"

Immediately, Byleth shakes his head. "Rejected."

"You didn't even let me finish!" 

Byleth cannot handle Sothis' names either. "Ah yes. My dagger called the dagger of the something. Astounding. Our enemies will surely tremble at the name alone."

"I don't know where you learned sarcasm from," Sothis spits, "but I don't appreciate it. And isn't your sword named the Sword of Creator?"

He shakes his head. "I did not name it. So no, this one was out of my control."

Sothis sighs. "Fine. What about..."

"...Dima?" Byleth suggests.

"That's worse than pointy," Sothis sneers, her expression enough to make Byleth look away. "You are absolutely not naming your dagger after your maybe-betrothed. Besides, you shouldn't refer to the dagger that once killed your father as Dima."

Ah. That was indeed correct. "You're right," Byleth says. "Okay, Sothis, anymore names?"

She puts a hand to her chin, as if deep in thought. "Hm. Well, perhaps something more abstract?"

"You're the one with knowledge," Byleth says simply. "I don't know anything."

The goddess smirks, long and languid. "You hardly need to put yourself down to egg on my ego, Byleth. But... Hm. Nuada? Airgetlam? Xifídio?"

"Wait," Byleth says. "You said one I liked. Eir something."

"Airgetlam," Sothis says. "A fine choice."

"Lammy for short."

"Absolutely not."

Byleth nods. "I've decided. Lammy the dagger."

.

When Byleth walks into class, he is faced with an odd sight. 

The Blue Lions are all huddled around one desk, looking as if they are holding an important meeting. They gasp when the doors open, and immediately run back to their desks as if nothing ever happened.

"Good morning, professor!" Ashe says. "How was your sleep? What did you get for your birthday!? And happy- uh. Happy belated birthday!"

Both Linhardt and Ingrid, who were sitting on either side of him, nudge him so hard he yelps.

"Literally what part of subtle do you guys not understand..." Byleth hears Felix grumble to himself.

"Thank you Ashe. I slept well." Byleth responds, walking to the front of the room. "And my father gave me a few weapons. The mercenaries gave me-" 

Byleth wonders if saying 'a headache' would be too much. "They paid for my drinks and dinner," Byleth says. "I also received some new teas."

Dimitri clears his throat. "May I ask what weapons?"

Byleth hums to himself. It couldn't hurt to tell them. "New gauntlets," Byleth says. "And a dagger."

"Ah," Dimitri says. Dedue nudges him. "Well, uh. Do you like them?" The prince then winces, as he didn't mean to say that.

"I do," Byleth replies. "I always could do with more weapons."

"If you had to ask for a specific gift," Annette asks suddenly, her hand shooting up, "what would it be?"

Byleth has to take a moment to think about it. A whisper of a thought.

Edelgard's head. The answers to his questions. The reasons why Rhea seemed to favor him so much, and why did his sword move, and why the dagger was able to kill his father so fast, and why he was dreaming of a false Dima, Edelgard's reasoning-

"I don't know," Byleth says. "I have almost everything I need."

"Boo," Sylvain says.

Byleth frowns. "Money, I guess."

It's Mercedes' turn to frown. "Professor, that's too impersonal!"

To be honest, Byleth has never cared much for material things. Living as a mercenary made him appreciate his sword calluses, the clothes on his back, warm stew and good company on cold nights, and of course, money. 

He shrugs. "I have everything I need."

Silence. Then suddenly, Sylvain speaks up again. "Okay, but if you did want something, what would you want?"

"I already told you that I have everything I want," Byleth says simply. "Well. I want you guys to live long, happy lives. Is that enough of a wish?"

_Untouched by war and Edelgard's ruling fist,_ Byleth doesn't say.

The Blue Lions are silent, staring at him wide eyed and open mouthed. Byleth assumes that he's never this sappy. He clears his throat. "Well, shall we start class?"

"Wait, professor!" Lysithea calls, raising a hand. "Free your schedule this weekend."

"Why?"

Lysithea stomps a foot under her desk. "Just- just free it up!"

"Alright, I will," Byleth agrees easily. Besides, he spends his free time running around for the students and the staff anyway.

.

The rest of the week seems to get weirder and weirder.

Dorothea asks him his opinion on certain songs. Ignatz inquires as to what sort of art he likes. Even the staff are asking him odd questions, like Manuela wondering if he likes chocolate cake or vanilla. His father seems to be accosted by the Blue Lions on every occasion, and whenever Byleth asks what they're asking Jeralt, his father just ruffles his hair and his Lions suddenly find that they're meant to be somewhere else.

The advice box questions are odd as well. He gets questions as to whether or not he likes certain teas, or if he's allergic to anything. Byleth has no idea why any of the students or staff actually care about such information, or if it actually matter to them in their day to day lives.

There's a memorable one in the mix, too, just because it is so much longer than the usual notes.

_I have an embarrassing crush on someone that I one day wish to share with them. They have given me a ring, allowed me to confide in them, gave me courage and strength, and so much more. They have supported me through so much, even if they themselves are not aware of it. _

_Although I have no plans on confessing until later in the future, when I am worthy of them, they are so terribly oblivious to any sort of advances from me or any other person that I fear that one day I may get down on one knee and they would worry about my clothes getting scuffed. In fact, their birthday was just recently, and they neglected to tell us because they didn't think it was important, and that they had forgotten! They are so blissfully unaware about my feelings for them, let alone platonic ones. What should I do? How should I make them aware that people care for them?_

Byleth puts a finger to his chin, then writes back.

_They sound horribly unaware. Perhaps try and be more direct about your feelings? Surely they are aware of the signification of a ring. Good luck. Oh, and greet them happy birthday for me._

Satisfied with his answer, Byleth slides the paper into the advice box and leaves to sit at a pew. Mere moments later, Dimitri walks up to the advice box, flanked by Sylvain and Dedue. He reaches in and reads one of the papers. 

Byleth watches in confusion as Dimitri buries his face into the paper. Sylvain and Dedue pat him on the back sympathetically.

The odd week continues.

Caspar barges into the Blue Lions classroom one morning, looking disheartened and bright eyed.

"I just realized something," Caspar had declared, voice loud despite the early hour. "I think that if I had been in your class, that professor and Linhardt wouldn't have been kidnapped on my watch- wait, why are all of you looking at me like that?!"

After a few more yelling sessions, Caspar had plopped himself down into the seat next to Dimitri and had absolutely refused to leave.

"Heyyyy!" Caspar exclaims, raising his hand for a fist bump.

Dimitri stares at it for a long moment before covering Caspar's closed fist with the palm of his gloved hand. Like the most awkward handshake in the world.

"Goddess above," Byleth hears Sylvain whisper.

"I guess that's another one," Sothis groans loudly.

.

The weekend arrives and Byleth is about to leave his room, when he finds Ferdinand on the other side of the door.

"Hello professor! Good morning!" Ferdinand greets, far too cheerful for early morning.

"Good morning," Byleth greets. Sothis peers at Ferdinand from behind Byleth's back, and glares weakly at him. 

"At least it isn't Linhardt," Sothis snarls. 

_Sothis._

"What?!" Sothis demands, and Byleth winces away from the sound.

Ferdinand clears his throat, smiling widely. Byleth is a little stunned in the wake of all of this positive energy so early in the morning. Normally, he's incoherent for the next few hours until lunch, but the brilliant shine of Ferdinand's grin jolts him awake.

Byleth straightens his posture. "May I help you?"

"I was wondering if you would like to eat breakfast with me?" Ferdinand asks, and his voice is nearly teetering on the side of too loud. 

"Sure," Byleth agrees easily. "But why not just meet me in the dining hall and ask me there?" 

Ferdinand flinches. "Uh, well, I was wondering if we could. Eat somewhere else today?"

Byleth is getting a little suspicious. "What happened," he demands, shifty. "Did Annette set the kitchen on fire again?"

"No!" Ferdinand exclaims, then, a little quieter. "No..."

"So why aren't we eating there?"

The boy looks literally everywhere else but Byleth's face. "Well! I was hoping for a change of scenery! Perhaps the greenhouse? Or in the classroom?"

"I don't mind," Byleth says easily, even more suspicious now. "But where are we going to get the food from if not the dining hall?"

Ferdinand practically jumps. "OH-! We had forgotten- oh- uh! Professor! Just meet me in the greenhouse! I shall fetch us some food!"

Byleth watches as Ferdinand runs off- in the direction of the dining hall. He sighs and leaves his room for the greenhouse.

Busying himself with caring for the flowers, Byleth waits for Ferdinand to arrive. Barely a few minutes later, Ferdinand hobbles into the greenhouse with a platter of eggs and some bread.

They sit on the edges of the flower beds, eating in polite silence. Then, Ferdinand speaks, after a particularly large bite of eggs.

"I'm really glad you invited me to join your class, professor," Ferdinand admits.

"I'm glad you joined," Byleth says easily. He really does care for Ferdinand. Although he didn't know him as well in his past life, he did care for the boy, and regret that they had to cross paths on the battlefield. 

Ferdinand smiles softly, poking gently at the yolk of an egg so it spills over the white. He dips a piece of bread into the runny yolk. "The Blue Lions... they're very kind to me. And the rest of us who transferred. Dimitri is a very good leader. He will be a fine king someday. He is someone that could potentially be Edelgard's equal... No. At this moment, he's probably more suited."

"Well," Byleth begins slowly. "You're a lion too."

For some reason, Ferdinand's eyes widen imperceptibly. "...You are correct. I am indeed a lion now! Ah, and don't tell Edelgard that I said that."

Byleth raises his eyebrows. "Said what?"

"Said that I think..." Ferdinand blinks. "Ah. You are very clever, professor!"

He takes a bite of the egg-soaked bread before saying anything more. "I think... Professor, can you keep a secret?"

Byleth nods quietly.

Ferdinand's voice drops, even though no one is in the greenhouse save for the two of them- and Sothis, who is trying her best to stay awake on Byleth's shoulder. "I think that Edelgard is trying to spy on you," Ferdinand whispers, which is not at all what Byleth expected him to say. 

That jolts Sothis up from her sleep-induced stupor. "Wait, what?!"

"...What makes you think so, Ferdinand?" Byleth whispers back, matching his tone.

"Well, when she wanted me to join your class, she asked me to report anything about you that I found suspicious," Ferdinand says. "But don't worry. I don't think you're suspicious at all. In fact, I think you are the very model of a perfect professor, professor!"

Byleth nods, waiting for him to continue.

"I think that she was unsatisfied with my lack of reports," Ferdinand says. "She also asked me what happened when... When we fought Sylvain's brother. Obviously I kept it a secret. I told her that nothing of note happened, and she was even more upset. She didn't even say anything when I requested to leave the Black Eagles!"

There is a moment in which Byleth can hear Ferdinand's voice tremble, and hear every little bit of insecurity in his voice. "Her loss," Byleth says. "In the upcoming battle of the Eagle and Lion, we'll make her regret that she didn't try and keep you in the Black Eagles."

Ferdinand stands, plate in his hands. "You're right, professor! She will rue the day that she ever underestimated Ferdinand von Aegir!"

Byleth nods along, finishing his breakfast.

"Allow me to take your plate back to the dining hall, professor!" Ferdinand says, brightly.

"I thought that the dining hall was closed?" Byleth says, watching Ferdinand turn pink.

"HAHA! Did I say dining hall? I meant. Uh. I meant-" 

"We'll take it from here, Ferdinand," a voice calls from the door.

Ingrid and Ashe stand just outside of the greenhouse, smiling. Ferdinand takes that opportunity to run out of the greenhouse, shouting goodbyes and laughing awkwardly loud.

Ingrid and Ashe whisk him away to the library to ask him what books they should use next for their book club. When Byleth tells them that he has no real opinion, they force him to sit down and read through a few myths and legends with them, as they share their opinions with Byleth. A few hours pass just like this, and suddenly Linhardt and Flayn appear, of all people, and yank Byleth away to do some fishing.

"I haven't forgotten what you've done," Flayn tells Linhardt, as she attaches bait to a rod.

"Really? Well, I've forgotten already."

Flayn's face floods with colour. "You..."

Linhardt sits down on the fishing pier, kicking his legs up in the air. "Me...?"

Predictably, despite everything that has just happened to them, Linhardt and Flayn get along, and then don't get along, and then get along, and just as quickly fall asleep on Byleth's shoulders. Byleth sets them down gently on the ground next to him, and continues fishing until the day turns to dusk. A few cats come by, attempting to take some fish. Byleth allows them to steal a few before swatting them away. He does want to keep some, after all.

Someone tugs on his sleeve.

Byleth looks down to see Linhardt pulling at him, one arm over his eyes. "What is it, Linhardt?"

"You cannot be this dense," he says, as a greeting. "I know you're aware of what the other lions are doing."

"Mm. What are they doing?" Byleth asks.

Linhardt doesn't answer. He takes a deep breath. "Professor. Do you trust me?"

Before Byleth can say anything, Linhardt sits up, yawning into his hand. "I want you to trust me, professor. I think you know exactly why we were taken. And I think you told Flayn."

Byleth knows his face is perfectly blank, but he still wants to wilt under Linhardt's intelligent gaze. "I don't know," Byleth says, still honest. He may be vaguely aware of why they were taken, but he doesn't know the details.

"Why have you told Flayn and not me?" Linhardt asks, barreling on as if Byleth had not even spoken, and Byleth cannot remember a time that he's ever heard him sound so... Petulantly. Indignant. Pouty. 

"Told Flayn what?"

Linhardt sighs. "So you won't tell me. Don't worry. I'll find out what you're hiding soon enough."

To his surprise, Flayn comes to his defense, awake now. "The professor? Told me what?" She rubs at one eye, sleepily.

The boy makes a face. "So you're both in on it. It's fine. The rest of the Blue Lions should be expecting us by now."

He walks off towards the dining hall, yawning once more. Byleth watches him go, swearing quietly in his head.

Flayn nudges Byleth. "What are you going to do about him?"

He shrugs.

"More importantly, what are you going to do about Edelgard?" Flayn asks, a hush now. "We must plan it out."

"_We?_" Byleth asks, and Flayn puts her hands on her hips. 

"Of course, we! How could I sit idly by whilst Edelgard plots Fódlan's doom?" Flayn declares, and Byleth shushes her. "In fact, I have been trying my best to disrupt her plans as best as I can! I tripped Hubert and the halls and passed it off as a mistake, when I really did it on purpose!"

Byleth has no idea how that helps their plans, but he appreciates her enthusiasm. 

"Are you coming or what?" Linhardt calls, already at the top of the stairs before the dining hall, and Byleth and Flayn hurry to his side.

The dining hall is dark when they enter, but suddenly the windows fly open, and a few dozen fire spells are lit, revealing the hidden people in the room. 

Dimitri and the rest of the Blue Lions stand in front of Byleth, presenting him with a cake. There's a little lion decorated onto the frosting.

"Surprise!" The Blue Lions declare. "Happy birthday!"

"Belated birthday," Linhardt corrects.

"Belated birthday!" They cheer again, enthusiasm not curbed in the slightest. "Happy belated birthday, professor!"

Byleth stares at them for a moment. There's frosting on Sylvain's cheek and flour all over Dedue's clothes. In the corner of the room sit Jeralt and the mercenaries, who wave when Byleth looks at them. Mercedes' hair has been pulled up into a bun, and Felix's hair has something that resembles egg stuck in a few of the strands. The dining hall is covered in little decorations- paper flowers, actual flowers, streamers, and candles. There is already a feast laid out on the long tables, dishes of delicious looking steamed fish, a clear soup with noodles inside, roast meats with gravy, some sort of vegetable looking dish- the aroma is incredible.

"Ah." Byleth says.

"Is that all you have to say?!" Lysithea demands. "We worked so hard-"

"No," Byleth replies. "I'm just surprised. You did all of this... For me?"

"Of course they did," Jeralt calls, from the corner. "These brats have a weird attachment to you!"

Byleth regards all of them, their wide eyes and their round cheeks. They are all so very young, eager to please, eager for acknowledgement. 

"Thank you," Byleth says, trying to put as much emotion as possible into his voice. "Really, I mean it. Thank you." He smiles too, for good measure.

The Blue Lions stare.

"What is it?" Byleth asks.

"Your smile... is mesmerizing!" Dimitri says, after a moment. Byleth blinks, because he knows this line. He's sure that Dima has said this before, an entire lifetime ago. "I love seeing you like this!"

"Yeah!" Annette agrees. "You have such a beautiful smile, professor! You should smile more often!"

"Oh," Byleth says, a little embarrassed now. "Well, thank you."

Dedue looks at Dimitri, and when the prince nods, Dedue takes out a book from behind his back. "Here. You said that you didn't have any need for material things, so we had this made for you."

Byleth takes the book from his hands. "Thank you," Byleth says, as he opens it. "You didn't have to get me anything..."

_Professor! Thanks for letting us start a book club, and for everything you've done for me and my family! I've told my siblings about you, and they really want to meet you! It's kind of embarrassing to write down my feelings like this, but I am so grateful that you are my professor! You have given me so much confidence and strength! Please let me know if I can help you with anything in the future, if you need me, I will run to your side! - Ashe._

Byleth's eyes widen. He flips to a random page.

_Professor, thank you for the fish! And for trying to save me! And for keeping my brother at bay!_

_Thank you for always helping out prince Dimitri and I. Know that I will always be in your debt. I appreciate your constant help._

_Even though you steal my students, I am really glad that you came to the academy! Let's go drinking sometime, handsome!_

_You're a decent sparring partner._

_I love you, kiddo. I will always be there for you._

_Words cannot express how dear you are to me. For everything that you are and everything that you do, thank you. Thank you for being in my life._

There's more from each student, pages and pages of thanks and nice thoughts. Byleth's eyes widen the more he reads it. "Oh," Byleth says, quiet.

"I hope that's a good oh," Ingrid says. 

"It is," Byleth says, still reeling. 

Ashe coughs into his fist, shifting from foot to foot. "Well? Do you like it?"

"I love it," Byleth responds honestly. "I really do. Thank you."

"It was Sylvain's idea," Dimitri admits.

For once in his life, Sylvain looks a little shy. "It was all of our ideas," he says, not looking at Byleth.

"Okay," Cyril says, "I am glad that you like it, but can we eat already? I'm hungry."

Byleth sighs, but bites back a chuckle.

They dig into the meal with fervent enthusiasm. Of course, Annette starts with the cake, and Mercedes scolds her. It is very obvious to anyone within hearing distance that Sylvain is attempting to play footsie with Felix under the table. Lysithea is trying to steal Flayn's dessert, much to the girl's chagrin.

It's a wonderful meal. Sothis teases him about smiling too much.

At the end of the night, when everyone has full bellies and are stumbling back to their rooms, Byleth is pulled aside by Dimitri.

"May I speak with you for a moment, professor?" Dimitri asks.

Inexplicably, Sylvain is crooning Dimitri's name teasingly from a distance. Byleth ignores it in favour of turning his attention to Dimitri.

"Of course, Dimitri. What is it?"

"I wanted to formally greet you happy birthday," Dimitri says. "And give you... A gift. From me. Not the entire class, just me."

He pushes two boxes into Byleth's hands, procured out of nowhere. "I wanted to get you a dagger," Dimitri tells him, "but your father already bought you one."

"I don't mind more weapons," Byleth tells him, opening one of the boxes. Dimitri's hands cover Byleth's and slam the box shut gently, but abruptly.

Dimitri is bright red. It's obvious even in the pitch black darkness. "Please don't open it in front of me," Dimitri says. "Well, goodnight!"

Without another word, Dimitri practically runs away.

_What was that all about?_

"I don't know," Sothis says, with the tone of someone who absolutely knows something. "But you should probably open it now."

Byleth heeds her request and opens the first box, which has a beautiful brooch inside. It's wonderfully made, even to Byleth's untrained eye, with a lion insignia on the front. Byleth immediately attaches it to his front.

The second box has a ring inside.

"Oh," Byleth says. "It's a critical ring." He examines it before sliding it onto his finger, noting the ring of blue on the inside and the pleasing appearance to the eye.

"Fits quite well," Byleth comments. "What a thoughtful gift. It will be quite helpful in battle."

Sothis drops her head into her hands and makes a muffled sound.

.

Byleth is quite surprised at the amount of visitors that he is receiving recently. He almost wants to hang a sign up on his door, telling them not to knock during certain hours. Perhaps that would dissuade them.

A knock.

Perhaps not.

Still, it could be important, so Byleth slides out from under his bedsheets and opens the door a crack.

Rhea is standing on the other side.

Byleth is so surprised he nearly slams the door on her face.

"Hello, professor," Rhea says, serene. "May I come in? I have something to discuss with you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY PLOT NEXT CHAPTER WE BACK IN TO ACTUAL PLOT AHHHHHH + WE HAVE FINALLY OFFICIALLY ACQUIRED A CASPAR
> 
> okay i may or may not be able to update next week. finals are gonna whoop my ass. i probs will update as scheduled but who knows. if u don't see an update next week that is why my dudes!
> 
> i hope y'all liked this birthday chapter. once again it is one of those hidden plot chapters that i enjoy writing so much lol. we are literally diving into uncharted territory now. major plot changes up coming. LIKE MAJOR MAJOR. we really in now yall!
> 
> IM SO TIRED I PROMISE I WILL REPLY TO YOUR COMMENTS LATER
> 
> thank u so much for reading! ♡
> 
> byleth/dimitri C+ rank  
byleth/dedue C+ rank  
byleth/felix C+ rank  
byleth/annette C+ rank  
byleth/ingrid C+ rank  
byleth/sylvain B rank  
byleth/mercedes C+ rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt C+ rank  
byleth/ferdinand C rank  
byleth/lysithea C rank  
byleth/cyril C rank  
byleth/flayn C+ rank  
byleth/caspar C rank
> 
> byleth/jeritza C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/claude C rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea C rank


	20. you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EARLY UPDATE WE WILDING
> 
> i don't know what to say about this chapter except for the fact that i was having so much fun, i wrote it so quickly that im uploading it a day earlier than expected. that's kinda fucking wild. 
> 
> i dont wanna say anything else for now. here is the chapter, really fuckin early for some reason!

"Hello," Byleth greets quietly. Rhea's smile grows. "Excuse me for a second."

Byleth slams the door shut unceremoniously and whirls to turn to Sothis, who has just dragged herself out of bed to lie on the floor. _Sothis. What should I do?_

The goddess yawns, raising her arms to stretch them. "Who's at the door?"

_Rhea._

"Rhea?!" Sothis shrieks. "What is she doing here?"

_If I knew I would inform you._

Sothis stomps one of her feet on the floor in frustration. "Damn. Did she..."

_Did she what?_

She shakes her head. "Never mind that, Byleth. We must think of something to get rid of her!"

_I'll have to do one of the things I know best,_ Byleth says, determined. Sothis smirks, slow and languid. She taps a finger against the side of her cheek rhythmically, in the most menacing way Byleth's seen anyone tap a finger.

"End her," Sothis says.

"Make her tea," Byleth says, aloud, at the same time.

They both stare at each other.

"No," the two of them say, in unison.

"Professor?" Rhea calls, muffled from the door. "Are you alright? I may be imagining things, but I thought that I heard something from your room."

Byleth stiffens, then opens his drawers and grabs a random tea bag as well as his teapot and cups off of the shelves. Rhea was not stupid, Byleth knew for certain. If he made the slightest mistake in his demeanor, or if grimaced instead of smiling- she would know. 

Rhea.

To be honest, Byleth does not know what to think about her. He's heard whispers around the academy of how ethereal she seemed, and he knew how loyal Seteth, Catherine and Cyril were to her, and he was absolutely aware that she would rescue orphans and made shelter for them and send out knights to protect the common folk of Fódlan and yet-

And yet.

Byleth does not dislike her. Far from it, in fact. He knows his father has lost his trust in her, and knows that Edelgard had captured her for a reason. But he is grateful to her, despite how utterly suspicious she was. A steady job, a roof over his head- but. Why would she give him the Sword of the Creator so easily? And why would she treat him with obvious favoritism? Byleth has never once trusted an easy smile. That's what got people killed in his old line of work- and especially in the war.

He likes her, but cannot shake suspicion. He knows Sothis has left killing her open as a suggestion, but she liked killing all of her problems. 

Not that Byleth was any different.

Killing was much easier than whatever invisible game of chess was going on around the academy, anyway. Much easier to hide a body than an entire war. Much easier to hide bloodlust than a bloody knife.

But Edelgard had hidden a war anyway.

Besides, Byleth is certain that Sothis does not wish for this woman to die. It's merely a hunch, but his gut has saved his head countless times before.

"You are aware that I can hear your thoughts, right?" Sothis demands, indignant. "You know that I can see whatever lurks in your mind, correct?"

_Yes._

She rolls her eyes, but her lip is trembling, fighting to keep a smile at bay. "Well, go on. Would not want to keep that woman waiting."

Byleth opens the door so fast it could probably kill someone standing on the other side. Luckily, Rhea is standing out of range, hands folded neatly together.

Rhea smiles.

For a moment, Byleth only stares at her. Then, in the most awkward of interactions, he lifts the teapot as a question, instead of saying the words aloud. She giggles. 

"There is no need to be nervous," Rhea says, gentle. "It's just me."

"That is perhaps exactly why I am nervous," Byleth says, and only realizes he has said it aloud when Rhea laughs. 

At a loss for words, Byleth nods his head rapidly. 

"Such a sweet child," Rhea practically coos. "Oh, my apologies. I should not be treating you like a child. It was... your birthday the other day, correct? Happy birthday."

"T-thank you." 

Byleth wonders where his cool persona has gone, and whether or not he will get it back anytime soon.

Rhea traces circles onto her hands with a thumb. "You know, you share a birthday with someone very, very dear to my heart. My mother."

She smiles at him. "She was a great parent, like I am sure Jeralt is to you."

"My father is good to me," Byleth says honestly. 

"I'm very glad." Whenever the Archbishop smiles, there's hardly even a crinkle. But she lifts her eyebrows and her cheekbones raise and even Byleth knows that she is a very beautiful person. "Shall we take this somewhere else?"

"Your room?" Byleth prompts, knowing from his past life that they would always talk there. 

To his surprise, she laughs so hard she throws her head back. "My my, professor. Do you suggest this to everyone? No wonder everyone is so very charmed by you."

"Normally we have tea in the gardens," Byleth says, unperturbed. He doesn't know why she cannot stop giggling. He patiently waits until she collects herself. 

"I was thinking that maybe we should have tea in the gardens today," Rhea says. "It is such a lovely day, after all."

So that's how Byleth finds himself walking with the Archbishop, of all people, into the dining hall, to grab a few sweets for tea. Byleth pretends not to notice how Ashe misses his mouth with his cup and pours water all down the front of his uniform, or how Cyril chokes on a potato, with Sylvain patting him on the back, or how Dimitri bumps into a table and nearly upends his food. 

"Do you have any recommendations, professor?" Rhea asks, as the poor chef shakily brings out every dessert they must have made today. 

"I like egg tarts," Byleth says. He does not have a particular fondness for any specific dessert or sweet, and he's never had a real opinion about egg tarts, but they were the first thing he saw on the platter and he can hear the Blue Lions frantically finishing their meal and hightailing it into the gardens to make their way to the bushes. Byleth is thinking of suggesting they build a fort in there. They spend a lot of time in the bushes after all, and it wouldn't do to be scratched by them.

"Then we will get egg tarts," Rhea says. She places a pile of them onto the platter. "Oh, and I want to try these Zanado fruit squares."

The chef looks as if she's about to pass out, so Byleth makes the fire hotter with a spell in order to have the water boil faster, and as soon as the tea pot is full, he walks a little faster than normal outside the door.

They settle in the garden. 

"Lady Rhea!" Cyril exclaims, from his spot in the bush. The Blue Lions immediately shush him, yanking him back down into hiding. 

"Pretend you do not see them," Byleth suggests.

"See who?"

Byleth nods, pouring her a cup of Seiros tea. Her lips curve up ever so gently at the scent.

"Fitting," Sothis murmurs.

_What?_

"Noooothing," she continues, smirking. "Just talking to myself."

Rhea takes a sip. "I see that your blending skills preceed you," Rhea compliments, adding a few cubes of sugar into her cup. "This is excellent."

A nod.

"We were speaking of Jeralt before, correct? Tell me. Has he told you anything about me, before you had arrived at the academy?"

Byleth pours a few splashes of milk into his tea before he replies. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" Rhea exclaims, looking surprised. "Why, that Jeralt. How heartless of him. In any case. Let us endeavor to be closer from here on out. Shall I tell you stories about the Jeralt I knew, when he was here prior at the academy?"

He busies himself with a tart as she speaks, listening to stories he has already heard before. He indulges in hearing them again, however- he always enjoyed hearing stories about his father. From the mercenaries, as a child, hearing how Jeralt would chase him around after Byleth would take his sword and run off with it. From his own mouth, even the tiniest bits of his past enough to make Byleth starry-eyed. From drunks in taverns, sloshing beer over their jugs and telling wild tales about the Blade Breaker, which soon evolved into stories including himself. From Rhea, stories he would have never learned himself.

And from his journal, after that incident.

"Do you have any stories you would like to share?" Rhea asks. "I am curious about Jeralt as a father."

Byleth blanks. This was the first time she has ever asked him this question. In fact, he is not entirely sure that anyone has asked it. To be entirely honest, he was kind of amazed.

"I think my father picked up Alois' terrible jokes," Byleth begins, and even the murmur of Lions from the bushes pauses. Rhea picks up a square and begins to nibble on it, eyes still focused on him. "When I was much, much younger, I would never smile, never cry, let alone laugh. I would not even talk. Even now, I seem to struggle with basic emotions. My father did everything he could to get a reaction out of me, including telling terrible puns. Absolutely awful. But every so often, he would tell a good joke, or story, and to let him know that I liked it, I would clap, but very slowly, and very deadpan. But father would smile."

Rhea nods along.

Byleth takes a sip of tea, done with his story. The Archbishop finishes her dessert, and then parts her lips. "Should I tell Alois that?"

He can feel himself smile, despite himself. Sothis presses up against his side, smiling alongside him. "Perhaps you should."

"She's _laughing,_" Cyril groans. "How did the professor do that?"

Dimitri is smacked on the back by several of the Lions. "Keep heart, dude," Caspar advises, a face full of pity. "You can push through it."

"D-dude?!" Dimitri exclaims.

"Dude," Sylvain repeats.

"Dude!" Annette mimics.

Rhea finishes her cup of tea. "I am sorry," Rhea begins. "I must seem so laughable to you. I imagine you must be dumbstruck by how unbecoming my behavior is for the Archbishop of all of Fódlan."

Byleth raises a brow. "Very unbecoming," Byleth agrees, fighting a smile.

She gasps dramatically. "Such brusque manners! You must get them from your father," she declares, trying to push back a smile of her own.

"Nooooooooo," Cyril complains.

"It is fine, your Highness," Dedue says, his hair peeking out of the bush. 

"To be honest, I did not come and seek you out merely for pleasantries," Rhea admits. "I have two things that I would like to discuss with you. One, about the Sword of the Creator. Have you experienced anything odd when wielding it?"

Everything in Byleth's life is odd, so he supposes that it is normal to him. He shakes his head.

"Oh." Rhea says, looking disappointed. "I am glad. There are so many legends about that blade. I was worried that carrying it may result in some strange side effect. Has there really been nothing odd? A tightness in your chest, strange dreams... Anything at all?"

"Dreams," Byleth agrees, "but nothing out of the ordinary."

Rhea's eyes suddenly gleam. "May I ask what sort of dreams?"

"Careful, Byleth," Sothis warns. "We do not want her to learn anything we do not wish her to know. At least, for now."

Byleth shrugs. He wasn't planning on telling Rhea about Sothis, anyway. "About someone I love," Byleth says.

He can hear squealing from the bush, and something that distinctly sounds like excited hands clapping together. "I... see," Rhea replies. "What were they like?"

"Ah," Byleth says, because he does not know how to answer. "They were very... Caring. They cared so much and so deeply for people, that it hurt them."

"I know someone like that," Rhea says quietly, Sothis stilling at Byleth's side. "They trusted so readily, and it eventually backfired on them. Are they still with you?"

"No."

"I'm very sorry to hear that," Rhea says, sounding genuine. "Let us change the topic. I had no intention to make our conversation so glum and dreary. What do you think about Cornelia?"

Byleth has to hold back a gag. It's instinct now, from Sothis. Sothis has no such reservations, and makes a big deal out of gagging and faking ill.

His blank face comes in handy nearly everyday. He doesn't know how people so readily show emotion, it must be so very exhausting. "She is a very interesting person," Byleth says, aware of her importance at the moment.

"You dislike her."

"I dislike her," Byleth agrees. "But why are you asking?"

"I trust you," Rhea says inexplicably. "I do not ask you to trust me. That would be unreasonable. All I ask is that you trust that I trust you. Is that alright?"

Byleth nods, at a loss for words.

"Never be alone with her, professor," Rhea commands. "Never, ever. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"Then we have come to an agreement. I am trying to do something about her, but until I am sure, then I shall not divulge to you the details."

Byleth stares at her. "I thought you trusted me."

"I don't trust myself," Rhea admits. 

A smile.

"This was a wonderful talk, professor." Rhea says gently. It's just as if they had never had this conversation in the first place. "I do hope we can do this again, under friendlier circumstances. Take good care of Flayn, would you?"

Byleth nods, and watches as she practically glides away. He does not realize he's tense until he allows his shoulders to relax, sinking into the chair. Byleth waits until the Lions have attempted to stealthily leave the bushes before he drops his head onto the table and sighs. He may be sick of egg tarts.

.

There was beauty to be found in nearly all situations, aesthetics that Byleth never seemed to have the time to care for, let alone pay attention to. Tragedy was appealing to many a person- as long as it was not occurring to them. Meant to be seen behind a sheer panel of rose-colored glass rather than the pain of excruciating exposure. The fine blade of a dagger appealed until it carved into one's skin and turned flesh crimson red. The curve of a smile turning purple with poison and deception. Cruel laughter akin to bird song. 

The ruined chapel, and Dima standing at the front of it.

To be honest, it was very difficult for Byleth to find beauty anywhere.

But there was something rather extraordinary about the sight of his father, in a mood, whisking Dimitri away to have tea together, of all things.

Byleth watches as his father dumps out the contents of his flask into a teacup, and can only imagine the horror of cheap ale and chamomile tea whisked together in one concoction. Actually, now that he thinks about it, maybe he should try it. 

Sothis gives him a look and he pushes the thought down.

"If you're expecting me to pour you some tea," Jeralt accuses gruffly, "you've got another thing coming, _princeling._"

Byleth watches in awe as Dimitri frantically reaches for the teapot, nearly knocking the platter of cookies over. He then watches in even more astonished awe as the prince proceeds to miss the cup and pour a generous amount of tea onto the table.

His father takes a swig as Dimitri hurriedly takes out a handkerchief to dab at the ruined tablecloth.

"And why is that kid here?" Jeralt says, pointing a finger at Dedue, who was standing next to Dimitri's chair. "If you're staying, sit down. Seriously."

Dedue points at himself, almost incredulous. When Jeralt nods again, he grabs a chair from another table and brings it over next to Dimitri's.

"Why are you here again?"

"Emotional support, sir." Dedue replies evenly. 

Byleth attempts not to choke on his saliva. The Blue Lions shush him.

"Professor, you have to be stealthier than that," Mercedes tells him, and it takes all of his self control not to stare at all of them, wide eyed. He cannot believe this. He is absolutely not taking this from the Lions, of all people.

"Yeah, professor," Sothis mocks, and Byleth pinches at her cheek in retaliation.

If his father has yet to notice them, he would be very surprised. He would give up all this month's check on a bet for it. At least the mercenaries were stealthier than the Lions. He can see them peeking out from the other bush, but they're not speaking or whispering or muttering to themselves.

"Emotional support, huh?" Jeralt says. "And not sir. It's just Jeralt. Well, I suppose this kid looks like he needs some," and goddess damn it, there goes Byleth's small hope that Jeralt forgot what Byleth told him that night at the tavern.

"P-pardon me?" Dimitri asks, clearly nervous.

Jeralt chugs his tea, then switches the cup out for the flask. "I don't understand why my kid has such a fondness for that tea stuff. Doesn't even hold a candle to good ol' ale. Not the point. I can see you, kid. You look like you've seen some shit."

"M-me?" 

Byleth's father rolls his eyes. "Goddess, kid. I don't think that you even stutter this much in front of Byleth, seriously."

Dimitri sputters even more, and Dedue closes his eyes and leaves them closed, as if he was praying, or something like that.

"Listen," Jeralt says, leaning forward in his chair. "I don't think I called you for whatever your brain is cooking up. You look like you're about to pass out, so I'll make this quick. I'm just here to tell you that if you need someone to talk to, I'm here."

The prince forgoes staring at Byleth's father to stare into the depths of his tea cup, clearly finding it much more interesting than whatever Jeralt wants to say. "I am... Not sure what you want to talk about."

Jeralt snorts. "You're not stupid, so quit acting like one, princeling. I've seen the same look on your face that I see on mercenaries or assassins that have been in the business for decades. Especially when Byleth went missing. Did you think that you could hide the amount of broken lances and swords from me? I take armory stock, kid. Not to mention how fast you figured out where they took him. You were on the warpath. You didn't eat for days. You didn't even realize you didn't keep your prince mask on or whatever until you spooked that purple girl... and that blue kid. Seriously. I'm here to talk. You can just bounce stuff offa me and I won't speak. Just an offer."

Dimitri opens his mouth to speak, likely to deny anything Jeralt has just said, but Jeralt quickly stands from the table. "I'm done here," he says. "Think about it, long and hard. I'll be here."

A pause, while Jeralt pushes his chair in. "Oh. Yeah. And don't try anything smart with my son."

Byleth wants to crawl into a hole.

He takes a deep breath. "Hey, get out of the bushes," he calls, and the Blue Lions startle. The mercenaries come stumbling out of their bush, and Byleth slowly rises from his shrub. Dimitri and Dedue look kind of shocked at the sight of him. He doesn't understand why. He wasn't being subtle. He followed them into the garden.

Jeralt slings one arm over Byleth's shoulder and drags him over to the dining hall. The mercenaries follow behind, a little slower. Byleth can practically see the down turned ears and sad looking tails. 

"I hate tea parties," Jeralt groans. "Seriously. How do you do that all the time? I had tea with that Rodrigue guy, he's fine, and then with Seteth, and then with Gilbert, but we all switched to alcohol by the end of it!"

Byleth's surprised that he actually started talking with them. Jeralt never bothered with things that he didn't need to do, so Byleth was quite pleased.

"I want fish," Byleth tells him.

Jeralt laughs. "Okay. We'll ask if the dining hall has any fish dishes today."

.

It's already late when Byleth slips into the training grounds. The sky, dipped in sunset, is already bleeding into a dark, deep purple, slowly twisting into black. 

He's very quiet, so the two people inside do not notice him. He slips behind a pillar, curious about their conversation.

It's already begun.

"I recall when you were nine years old," Felix is telling Dimitri. His tone is too sharp to just be simple reminiscing. "you swung the sword so hard you snapped it clean in two."

Byleth supposes that the two of them have started a conversation about the sword that Felix is holding. It's a very beautiful blade. Byleth would love to swing it around someday and see if it feels as good as it looks. Although Byleth has never, ever been one for aesthetic, he knows a good blade when he sees one.

"Come now," Dimitri says, "that was so long ago! I'm hardly the fool I was then."

Felix chuckles, running a hand through a few stray strands of his hair. The sound is bitter. "So you say, but house Fraldarius has told that story for years."

Dimitri stares. "Is there something wrong, Felix?"

It's Felix's turn to stare. "How pointless. No use talking about someone who's long dead. Looking at your face is making me angry. I'm going to find a different training partner. Farewell, your Beastliness."

"There's no one else here," Dimitri says, a little softer now, as though he were soothing a spooked animal. His smile is lopsided.

Felix's face turns red. It's evident, even as the room is slowly dimming. "Unfortunate. Then I'm leaving."

As Felix turns and leaves, Dimitri grabs his wrist. "Wait, Felix-"

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Felix yells. Even Sothis is shocked by the sudden noise.

"I'm sorry," Dimitri says, immediately flinching away. "I should not have touched you without your permission. But we need to talk about this-"

"I don't speak to animals, boar!"

"I saw you talking to that kitten the other day-"

Byleth watches, wide eyed, as Felix attempts to punch Dimitri in the face with his free hand. Dimitri evades, but his eyes are blown wide. Byleth's shock has him rooted to his feet, mouth open and yet no words spilling out.

"Why did you dodge." It's a statement, not a question. 

Dimitri finds his words quicker than Byleth does. "I don't intend on allowing you to- to just hit me! What is going on!?"

"If you don't want to fight me then let's talk," Felix sneers. "But you don't want to talk. You don't want to do anything but sit and simmer and walk around on your hind legs, playing human! I know what you are...!"

The prince balks. "You are the one refusing to talk. I've tried countless times to talk with you, but you-"

"Never listen? Never _listen?!_ I have been waiting and listening for years and you. You are not the Dimitri I want to talk to. You are just a beast in human's clothing!"

"Will you stop calling me that?!" Dimitri exclaims, now matching his tone. Sothis is shaking him, urging him to action, but he cannot move. Something is happening, and something is churning at the bottom of his gut. "If you could just calm down and listen!"

Felix scoffs. "What would you say to me? What could you possibly say that could convince me that you're still human?"

Dimitri says nothing.

"You've changed, ever since that day," Felix says, as if trying to reassure himself. "You've been calling out for them in your sleep. You've been sharpening your blades. You've been talking yourself. The others haven't noticed, but I have. How long do you think do you have until they notice? It's not a matter of 'will they notice.' It's a matter of when. What will you do then, huh? Boar?! Come on. React. Say something. Anything. Do it. I dare you."

Silence.

"_Deny me!_" Felix screams. "Tell me I'm wrong! Say something! Tell us that you need help!"

Still nothing.

Felix drops the sword, steps forward, and punches Dimitri in the face. Dimitri goes down hard.

Finally, finally, Byleth is shocked out of his stupor.

"What is _going on?!_" Byleth demands, running up to the two students. His sudden entrance doesn't make Felix stop, however. It only seems to encourage him.

One blow to Dimitri's face. Byleth pulls him away. "You don't deserve him," Felix hisses. "Look at him, protecting you, despite not knowing what you really are! Feeding off of his presence and demanding his attention... Look at what you've become!"

Still nothing.

Dimitri is staring at the ground.

"Answer me."

No reaction.

"_Answer me!_

Quiet. "Glenn-"

Felix wrestles his way out of Byleth's grip to throw another punch, but Byleth immediately grips his arms, pulling the boy back.

He fights his grip, snarling. "_Never_ use my brother as an excuse ever again," Felix yells, voice growing hoarse. "I am Felix Hugo Fraldarius! There is no one else but me in front of you, you stupid boar!"

Byleth doesn't loosen his grip until Felix's chest stops heaving and he calms. Deep breathing fills the room.

And then, quieter, more desperate. 

"What happened to you?" Felix asks, and Byleth has never heard him sound so small. 

"**Go away.**"

Byleth covers his hands with his mouth.

Felix's fists clench. His eyes look wild. "Answer the question, boar," Felix snarls, losing the soft edge. 

"**I said leave me _alone,_ Glenn!**" 

Dimitri slaps a hand over his mouth, eyes widening. He chances a look over at Byleth, and must not like whatever he sees, because the prince is already up on his feet and fleeing.

"Dimitri!" Byleth calls. He's already gone. He turns his attention to Felix, who's hands are shaking.

"I hate the boar," Felix says, and Byleth knows something is so, so very wrong when he allows himself to be pulled into Byleth's embrace. "I hate the boar," Felix repeats, and despite everything, Byleth notices that he says _the boar_ and not Dimitri, except he is unconsciously aware that they are the same, and yet not, one being and yet not the same as what Felix thinks they are-

Sylvain bursts into the room, eyes wild. "What happened? I saw Dimitri, the others are going to him- FELIX!"

"_DON'T LOOK AT ME!_" Felix screams, and buries himself into Byleth's arms, desperate not to be seen.

"Go check on Dimitri," Byleth says, not looking away from the crown of Felix's head. 

Sylvain does not approach, but he does not move away. "All the others are," he says, a mere whisper.

Byleth does not budge. "Go."

He leaves.

They stand there, until the moon is full in the sky. 

"Fuck," Felix says, the word mumbled into Byleth's chest.

Byleth sighs, trying to relax against him. "Fuck indeed. Are you alright?"

"Goddess above, shut the _fuck_ up." A pause. Sothis has one palm to her chest. "I didn't mean that."

Byleth allows the lie to linger above their heads for a moment longer, just to allow Felix to sit and simmer in the wait. "You did," Byleth says. 

Silence seems to wind its way around both of their necks. Byleth feels as if he could run a blade down the side and a chasm of fog would spill down between them, trapping them both.

"Let go of me."

Byleth frees him immediately, stepping out of Felix's personal space. The boy curls into himself instead of curling a hand around the hilt of a sharpened sword.

_Something_ heavy hangs between them. It's so harrowing Byleth is nearly sent to his knees. 

"We're going," Byleth tells him suddenly.

"Where?" Felix demands.

"To the dining hall," Byleth says. "We're going to get some food." 

Felix shakes his head. His spine, originally crafted from fire and steel- or perhaps that was the Felix Byleth knew before, the Felix that called him _Dimitri-_ seems to wilt like an unattended flower, petals drooping to the floor.

"I would rather spar to get my mind off things," Felix says, but Byleth refuses to budge.

"You'll hurt yourself."

"So?"

Byleth looks at him, face carefully blank. "So, we're going to the dining hall."

"It's late."

"We're going to the dining hall, then I am taking you to your room." Byleth says, leaving no room for argument. Felix's eyes are unseeing as he whisks him off.

.

Mercedes takes Felix away from him as soon as he makes Felix swallow a few mouthfuls of leftover food. She mouths thank you at him, as she pulls Felix away. Felix seems to want to take him with them, before he becomes aware of something, and lowers his hand.

Byleth watches them go, making sure they're out of sight, before he rushes outside and vomits into the bushes. It doesn't leave him easily. It feels as if it's stuck in his throat, and he gags on the bile, feeling worse than before.

Something is in his throat, something is there, something is not leaving, something is stuck there, when Byleth blinks, the bile is black and is squirming within the bushes-

"Byleth," Sothis says, voice calm. Her hand is on his back. 

He uses this sudden moment of clarity to wipe at his mouth, and the mess of brown smears on the back of his hand. Not black, nothing else.

"Byleth, please go lie down. You're hurting. You can tell your father in the morning."

_This isn't about me,_ Byleth thinks back, too quick, slightly desperate. _This isn't about me._

"But you're hurting," Sothis murmurs.

_When do I not?_

"True," Sothis replies, still quiet. "Very true. Byleth?"

_What is it?_

"I would raze the earth if it meant your happiness," Sothis confesses. Slow, murky ooze seems to drip out of the bushes, spreading throughout the cracks of the dirt, flooding the soles of Byleth's shoes, climbing up the chamber of his body. Byleth blinks and it all disappears.

_I would too._

"Breathe, Byleth. Would you like to use a Divine Pulse?"

A moment passes.

_Allow me to do something, first. Just to see._

.

Felix and Sylvain are leaning on the wall outside. Felix is running his hand over his bruised knuckles. Ingrid is sitting cross legged on the floor. 

Byleth opens the door. Only the tiniest bit.

The crack of light spills into the room and reveals contained carnage. Broken lances, books spread wide open onto the floor, their spines stretched. A flower pot has spilled and cracked. The bed has been moved. Somehow, there are shards of glass etched into the rug, like a tattoo, like a brand.

And in the middle stands Dimitri.

His back is turned to Byleth. He can see the dry heave that rattles his back, the bend of his spine, as if the shadows themselves were laying upon it, spread across his back, almost coy.

Byleth allows his eyes to drift.

Byleth thinks to himself for a moment. The worried lions. Sothis' hands. His father's grim face. Felix's haunted eyes. Dimitri, shadowed by ghosts.

_Someone is going to pay for this,_ Byleth doesn't say. Vengeance slithers down his throat, shocking him steady. Bile. Void.

It must have been a wish, for the goddess hears him. Curls her fingers into his hand.

Byleth steps inside the room and closes the door, and wonders if Felix wants to take his hand and rip him away from whatever he seemed to see inside the room, standing there instead of the prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHH DUN DUN DUN IM SORRY HSHSHSHHSHSHHSHS
> 
> this is literally the least special chapter name ehhwhwhwh BUT I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT ELSE TO FUCKIN NAME IT
> 
> UM WELL I HOPE U LIKED THE CHAPTER. I LIKE IT A LOT IM KINDA REALLY PLEASED WITH IT SHHSHWHWHS AHHH IDK WHAT ELSE TO SAY BUT I HOPE U LIKED IT! I ALREADY STARTED WRITING THE NEXT CHAPTER AAAAA IM SO EXCITED TO SHOW YALL WHAT HAPPENS NEXT
> 
> guess who still doesnt have my fuckin shinies im gonna literally cry aaaaaaa 
> 
> oh, to everyone in the comments that was like oh is airgetlam an [insert thing] reference? lemme say that a lovely person called mei gave me the inspo, so yeah! that's that! it can be whatever ref u want it to be ;)
> 
> WE REALLY IN IT NOW MY DUDES. IM KINDA TIRED SO ILL ANSWER YOUR COMMENTS TOMORROW ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
> 
> thank you so much for reading! ♡
> 
> byleth/dimitri C+ rank  
byleth/dedue C+ rank  
byleth/felix B rank  
byleth/annette C+ rank  
byleth/ingrid C+ rank  
byleth/sylvain B rank  
byleth/mercedes C+ rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt C+ rank  
byleth/ferdinand C rank  
byleth/lysithea C rank  
byleth/cyril C rank  
byleth/flayn C+ rank  
byleth/caspar C rank
> 
> byleth/jeritza C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/claude C rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea C+ rank


	21. the space between hello and goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dearest platypus and bookworm, YES I SAW THE DLC IM SCREAMING AHHHH THE OUTFITS. i was already planning on [redacted] because soon [redacted] will [redacted]. so really the outfits just make my life easier. ;) aaaaAaaaAAAAAAAA
> 
> this chapter was... really fun to write but really challenging because i cannot write anyone but byleth rbehhsjsjsjdj
> 
> okay a warning for this chapter: animal death. please do take care of yourself!

_"Professor."_

_Byleth looks up from his notes. They're barely legible anyways, eyes flooded with sleep. Byleth has taken to wearing reading glasses when he works late nights- his eyes throb with the reminder of pain. He doesn't know when it was last that he blinked. His cup of tea, something black and strong, has long been chilled. The neat cursive of his writing has gone from loopy and round to harsh and jagged._

_Ingrid stands in the doorway, a thin smile on her lips. She has two cups and a teapot in her hands. "May I come in?"_

_The harsh candlelight seems to carve out her cheeks. She looks older than ever before. "Of course," Byleth tells her, and winces at how raspy his voice has become in the late hour. "Nightmare?"_

_The Lions have taken to invading his space no matter the time of day, whether or not he is in his bedroom or the meeting room. It's as if they're all making sure that he's still there. Some just sit and converse with him over tea. Others pass out in his bed. Many Lions only want his company. Few come to him for nightmares. Recently, Ingrid has joined their ranks._

_Ingrid sits next to him. It is odd seeing anyone here outside of discussion of battle. The long tables are empty, absence evident._

_"Yeah," she says. Wordlessly, she sets the new pot in front of him. Byleth finishes his old tea in one gulp and pours her tea first, then for himself next._

_Byleth takes a gentle sip of the drink and picks up his quill again. He never forces his students to talk unless they start first._

_He pretends not to watch her in his periphery, as her hands shake around a white cup. She has become paler in these years, and so the dark ravines beneath her eyes are even more prominent than before. There is a new scar peeking out from beneath her shirt, white and sunken into her skin. Her shoulders droop outside of battle._

_Byleth returns to his notes. It seems almost like an invasion of privacy to watch her like this, to evaluate her and observe like he would observe any of their enemies on the battlefield._

_Ingrid sets her cup down on the table without drinking from it. "Professor," she begins, as if she is steeling herself._

_"Yes?" Byleth prompts, circling the number of axes they have in their inventory._

_"Have you ever been in love?"_

_The circle turns into a scribble. _

_"I see," Ingrid says, even if Byleth evidently does not know how his messed up notes contribute to her observations. _

_Byleth gives up all pretense of pretending that he has been writing, and puts down his quill. "Why?" Byleth asks_

_She waves him off. "Don't worry. I'm just curious."_

_"I didn't think that you were the type to care about things like romance," Byleth tells her, picking up his cup and taking a generous sip._

_"Definitely not," she chuckles. "At least, not anymore. I did tell you about Glenn, right? Or at least you know of him."_

_Byleth nods. Felix's older brother, as well as Ingrid's fiancé. He's put together a mental profile of the man. The childhood friends seemed to hold him in high regard. Although Sylvain was not as obvious about it, he did seem to care for Glenn. Dimitri had spoken fondly of the man. Ingrid seemed to be looking for him in her shadow, to this day. And Felix- well- Felix obviously loved him. Enough to widen the already gaping rift between himself and his father._

_"My fiancé," Ingrid breathes, and Byleth cannot help but notice that she does not mention him in past tense. "I couldn't help but think of him. Especially now. I can't help but wonder what life would be like if he were still here. Maybe Felix would be less angry at the world. Maybe he could have helped his Highness."_

_Byleth thinks about the man, likely still standing and staring at the mess of rubble in the cathedral. "Or maybe not," Byleth says honestly. "It would take more than a single person's presence to help such a trauma. It takes time and effort."_

_"You're right," Ingrid sighs. "You're always right."_

_Byleth says nothing, for she is totally and utterly wrong. _

_"Still," she begins again. "I was thinking. About a life with him. I was thinking you would like him. He was a fantastic knight. He might have given you a run for your money, professor."_

_"Maybe so," Byleth says. He pours himself another cup. "I would have liked to fight him."_

_Ingrid smiles at him, thin lipped and quiet. "I know. So I was thinking, yes? About love and of fighting and of Glenn..."_

_She sets her cup down on the table._

_"And then I realized." A pause. "We don't know anything about you at all, do we?"_

_Byleth blinks. "What brought this on, Ingrid?"_

_"Mm. Nothing really. I was just wondering about you," Ingrid tells him honestly. "Did you have a fiancé? Were you ever in love? Promised to someone? Any siblings at all? You are very mysterious, professor. You know nearly everything about us but we know almost nothing about your background."_

_"No, no, no, and no," Byleth says easily. He's never thought of himself as 'mysterious.' Perhaps confusing at times, with a shady background, but that was all. He didn't know that his students have thought about him to this extent._

_Ingrid stares at her cup of tea. "Why do I feel as if I still have all of my questions unanswered? I'm sorry, professor."_

_"We have time," Byleth says, and Ingrid gives him a lopsided smile before launching into questions._

_._

_Byleth is about to collapse into bed until Sylvain yanks him by the arm and pulls him into the dining hall. He sits Byleth down at one of the tables and disappears into the kitchen, reappearing with two tea cups and two dark bottles of a mysterious, murky liquid._

_He raises his eyebrows at him._

_"Sorry, sorry!" Sylvain says, grinning widely. "I couldn't find any other cups suitable. And you like tea and tea parties, right?"_

_Byleth stands from his seat, but Sylvain strides over and pushes him back down gently. "Come on, professor! We're both adults, and I know you can handle your alcohol."_

_Sylvain stares at him with wide eyes, batting his eyelashes every so often. He sighs. "Okay," Byleth agrees, taking a bottle and a cup from him. Sylvain pumps a fist, and sits down across from him. "Did you only invite me because you couldn't convince any of the women?"_

_"Nah," Sylvain says, popping one of the bottles open and pouring the contents into Byleth's cup. The unappetizing brown liquid sloshes over the sides. "It's been awhile. Five years is a long, long time, professor, and you look just the same. Just wanted to talk with you. Catch up, you know?"_

_The alcohol is so strong the smell alone is already giving Byleth a headache. "This is putrid," Byleth tells him._

_"Not gonna drink it?" Sylvain asks. "I won't force you to, professor."_

_Frowning, Byleth lifts the cup to his lips and takes a sip. He holds back a gag. "I hate it," Byleth says._

_For this, Byleth is granted a brilliant smile. "That's how you know it's the good stuff," Sylvain says, ignoring the second cup entirely and drinking straight from the bottle._

_Byleth watches him go. "You did not become an alcoholic in the time that I was away, did you?"_

_Before answering, Sylvain finishes the entire bottle. Byleth is a mix of impressed and horrified. "No," Sylvain tells him. "I'm just good at hiding my expressions. You're right, it's absolutely terrible. I'm never doing that again."_

_Absentmindedly, Byleth finishes his cup. Like always, it goes down like water, despite how awful it tastes._

_"Booo."_

_Byleth watches as Sylvain slumps in his chair. "What is it?"_

_"I was hoping you would show some sort of reaction," Sylvain confesses. _

_Byleth shakes his head, moving both bottles out of reach. Sylvain does not complain. He looks as if he's already getting hit with the effects. "Sorry to disappoint," Byleth says, "but I've never felt the effects of alcohol, ever. It just doesn't taste good."_

_Sylvain stares, eyes glassy. Byleth cannot say that he enjoys being stared at, ever._

_"What is it?"_

_Lazily, Sylvain reaches for the bottles, but doesn't manage to grab one. He makes no attempt to lean forward in his chair to actually attain a bottle, but he pouts when he doesn't reach it. "That's the most that I've ever heard you speak unprompted," Sylvain says. "I feel as if I've learned more about you in the past five minutes compared to the five years you were gone."_

_Byleth eyes the other bottle. "Well, I was gone." He wonders if he could toss it into a river._

_"But we spent a lot of time thinking about you, you know?" Sylvain tells him. "They mourned you. We thought you were dead. I only realized that I didn't actually want you dead when I thought you were."_

_"You have told me this before," Byleth replies. _

_A deep sigh. "I thought I would get to see you react if I made you drink nasty alcohol. Or maybe drop your guard a little."_

_Sylvain makes another grab for the bottle, so Byleth sets it on ground next to him. He pouts furiously._

_"I used to think that you were an unfeeling bastard," Sylvain says, eyes alarmingly alert for someone that's consumed that much alcohol. "Sometimes I still do. But maybe it's not that you're unfeeling. Maybe you just don't trust us enough to let us in. Call me unreasonable, or arrogant, or whatever the hell you want, but I think that's selfish of you. How much do you know about our lives? How little do we know about yours? It's unfair. Always giving, never taking, oh so careful with your words... It pisses me off, you know?" His words seem to slur at the ends._

_Byleth eyes the terrible alcohol and collects his thoughts before he speaks. "I am sorry. I did not mean to offend you."_

_Sylvain snorts. "See? Look at you."_

_"I don't understand."_

_"You wouldn't." A deep, deep sigh._

_He traces little circles into the tabletop, small motions that keep steady. "When Jeralt died," Sylvain says, watching Byleth carefully for a reaction, "the whole academy was watching you. But you knew that, didn't you? Your face, your actions... I can't remember a time that you have emoted more. You holed yourself up in your room for a day and I thought about barging in just to see the look on your face."_

_Sylvain is watching him, so Byleth doesn't dare flinch or curl into himself. He wouldn't, anyway. Byleth would not bend to mere words alone._

_"Aren't you tired of that facade, professor?" Sylvain asks. He smiles. It's an awful smile, nothing like the charming smirks he shoots at the girls or the sweet, soft grins he reserves for his childhood friends. It's as if he's baring his teeth at him. "I know I am."_

_And Byleth doesn't know if he's talking about himself or-_

_"I'll make you some tea to wash out the taste of the booze," Byleth murmurs, and Sylvain drops his head in his hands._

_"Please do."_

_._

_The walk down the halls is excruciatingly long._

_A knock on Felix's door._

_"Felix?"_

_No answer._

_Byleth quietly sits down in front of his closed door, leaning against it. "I'm sorry for sending Ingrid and Sylvain after you. Forgive me. But they were worried about you."_

_Silence._

_"I'm sorry that I didn't save your father." Didn't, not couldn't. Byleth hates himself. He should have used a Divine Pulse. "It was my fault. Forgive me."_

_Nothing._

_Then, suddenly, the door is yanked open so violently that Byleth falls into Felix's room, back hitting the hard floor. He stares up at an angry Felix, whose hair is falling into his eyes. His face is an angry shade of red._

_"You're not going to start acting like that boar, or like Ingrid, are you? Living for the dead and the dead alone?" Felix demands, tone sharp. "Get over yourself. His death was his own fault. He made his choice, and we made ours."_

_Byleth gazes at him, eyes wide. He makes no moves to get up._

_Scoffing, Felix moves and and pulls him so he's sitting upright. "It's the old man's fault," he repeats. "Don't waste time worrying about a problem that was never on your hands."_

_"But what if I could prevent it?" Byleth asks. "What if I was able to prevent his death?"_

_"Yeah, right." Felix snorts. "I doubt that you would be able to stop him even if you were able to. That old man only does what he wants. If he plans on dying for him, then he'll die. Waste your breath on more important matters. I know you constantly worry about useless things."_

_Byleth's lips purse. He did?_

_"...Did you eat the lunch Sylvain brought you?" Byleth asks, and for some reason, this makes Felix scoff once more._

_._

_Byleth has never prayed before. _

_There really has never been a point. His father never introduced him to religion, and when he was aware of the concept, the goddess herself lived in his head and there was no real use praying to a deity that fell asleep half of the time and floated in his room the other half. _

_His footsteps echo in the empty cathedral. The arched ceilings seem to sing his arrival. The tiny patches of moonlight that ebb their way through the ceiling caress his skin. The pew groans in complaint as he sits down, his spine stiff and straight._

_What does one even say in prayer?_

_Byleth is confident that Sothis would laugh at him were he to stick to the prayers the church had created for his believers._

_With eyes on Dima, he prays and prays and wonders if Sothis can hear him._

_._

"Byleth?" Sothis whispers.

He can barely hear her over the roaring in his ears. Back turned, staring at nothing, Dimitri stands in the middle of his ruined bedroom and Byleth desperately tries not to tie parallels between Dimitri and Dima. It's difficult. 

"They're the same person," Sothis murmurs. "Of course you would tie parallels between the two. They are one and the same."

_I don't want to do this,_ Byleth confesses. 

Sothis hums quietly. "Would you like me to take over and speak with him in your stead?"

_What would you even say to him._

"I'm working on it," Sothis hastily says, which means Byleth probably shouldn't entrust her with his body.

Looking at his turned back, Byleth wants to throw up. Again. It's as if every inch of darkness is crawling up his throat and begging to be set free. Not for the first time, Byleth wonders if that black ooze was actually real.

"Dim- Dimitri?" Byleth prompts, and then curses himself for the stutter.

He doesn't know why he expected an answer. At the very least a 'go away' would do. But Dimitri doesn't answer.

"Well, what now, genius?"

_You think I know? I know full well that I am not qualified to help, nor do I know how._

Byleth runs his hands through his hair. It falls into his eyes uselessly. What could he possibly do to-

A quiet thought occurred to him.

_When you speak..._

"It quiets everything else..." Byleth murmurs. He clears his throat, suddenly dry, and moves so that he's standing in front of Dimitri.

The prince is staring at the ground, trembling quietly. Eyes glassy, he doesn't even flinch when Byleth stands in front of him.

With a total lack of knowledge, Byleth maneuvers him to sit on his bed, making sure it was clear of any mess. Dimitri allows himself to be moved, as if he was completely unaware that Byleth was even there. Byleth swallows. He's in out of his depth. He doesn't know what to do. 

Byleth has seen those haunted by their own actions even before he knew what they were experiencing. People who would scream after battle or burst into tears, inconsolable for the near future. Mercenaries who would stare at their bloody hands and refuse to move from their spot. He would watch them curl into themselves and never come out.

In truth, Byleth is completely and utterly aware that he was unqualified for any sort of therapy. No matter what Dimitri claimed, his words alone were not enough to aid anyone. He has no idea how to help him. 

The goddess is silent.

So he speaks.

"I'm a good hunter," Byleth says softly. Matter of fact, rather than bold or proud. He was completely aware that he was better than most, but did not embellish nor diminish his own talent. There was no point in being humble. "I may enjoy fishing more, though."

He doesn't need to ask Sothis to pull up the memories for him. She is there, eager to devour whatever knowledge she yet still lacks of Byleth. Byleth sits down on the bed next to the prince.

"My first kill was a fish," Byleth continues, keeping his voice low. "Father had taught me to string a hook and to keep a proper grip on the rod and what sort of bait to use on the line. I found it satisfying. Fun, even. All I had to do was set the scene and the prey came to me."

He resists the urge to lick his lips.

Sothis watches a young Byleth, hair still dark, lift a knife and drag it across the fish's underbelly. Blank. No expression.

Tempered self-satisfaction haloed by crimson red.

"Even with my father's guiding hands and careful instruction, it was still a bloody mess. I had no idea how to gut it properly, or how to scale the fish." In his mind's eye, he can see his crimson hands and his father's half-amused, half-stern expression.

"I remember being so internally proud that I didn't want to eat it," Byleth says, and can practically see the silver fish slowly come to a still upon the board. "But we did. We cooked it over the fire in salt and I thought it was the most delicious thing that I had ever eaten. I did not care about the blood still caked under my nails."

Byleth stares at his hands, clean of any visible blood, yet still there.

"My second kill was a wolf," Byleth continues. "I was older. There was a solitary wolf that had been circling our camp for days. Father had told me not to go near it. It was a mangy thing, thin with starvation and a dangerous winter. Despite the fact that it had been following us for two weeks, it never attacked. Neither did we. It stole our food scraps."

Sothis is enamored with the image of him with rounder, chubbier cheeks sitting at a roaring fire. Eyes on the wolf. Dimitri has yet to react.

Byleth's eyes narrow. "One night, there was a rabbit that appeared out of nowhere. Obviously, the wolf gave chase. And so did I. I wanted that rabbit. It had been weeks since we had meat."

He remembers stealing a hand axe from one of the sleeping mercenaries and taking off into the snowy forest. 

"The wolf paid no attention to me," Byleth says. "Father tells me that it was so used to my presence, that it allowed me to follow. And that I was lucky. The wolf cornered the rabbit and had snapped it up in its jaws and I let the axe fly."

Sothis is staring at the memory of the squirming, howling wolf. "I watched it die," Byleth says. "As it was bleeding out, it tried to eat the rabbit. The rabbit died first. My father nearly wept as he saw me attempting to drag the wolf back to camp. I remember how bloody I had become, and how bloody my father became, as he held me close and shook. We didn't eat the wolf. Or the rabbit."

"Is this really the proper conversation topic?" Sothis asks, incredulous. Byleth doesn't know what to say.

"My third kill was a man," Byleth says, and Dimitri's eyes flicker. "Father and the mercenaries had rid a certain town of bandits, and yet, they missed one. He was a scrawny thing, loyal to the bandit leader because they had history together."

Byleth can see the man in his mind's eye, eyes puffy with tears. Hand outstretched. "He offered me some candied peels and asked me where my father was. Told me that he had work for him. I briefly recognized him. I knew he was plotting to kill my father, or use me as a hostage."

The goddess is watching. "I led him into a remote part of the woods, grabbed the dagger from his belt, and gutted him like I did the fish. He howled in pain and grabbed at my hair and tossed me to the dirt. He tried to take the dagger from me, but I resisted. There was no finesse in my actions as I stabbed up at him, over and over. He collapsed on top of my body and I laid there until my father found me."

Sothis' eyes close. 

"I felt nothing," Byleth says simply. "Absolutely nothing at all. I don't regret killing the man. I knew that he was planning to hurt my father. But I dislike the way that I didn't feel anything."

Byleth's lips thin. "So I am envious of you. That you are able to feel so much. That you have so much compassion in you. I am aware that it is stupid... and I am sorry. About everything."

He chances a glance over at Dimitri.

His eyes are closed. Byleth makes sure that he is breathing before he allows his fists to unclench.

Sothis leans in to Dimitri's face. "Is he asleep?"

"Professor?" Dimitri murmurs.

Although it was merely a whisper, Sothis jumps back and shrieks, surprised. 

Byleth's eyes close, too. "Yes?"

"Will you tell me more stories?"

An easy feat, for most, but... "I am afraid I do not have many stories to tell."

Dimitri hums quietly, leaning back on his bed. His breathing is slow. "Will you tell me about this Dima person?"

_Shit._

Instead of saying that, his mouth moves without his permission. "What would you like to know?"

"Anything that you would like to tell me," Dimitri says.

Byleth tells him random anecdotes. Things like how he liked Chamomile. How he was very strong. How he was very loved. He continues up until Dimitri falls asleep. Byleth takes the time to properly tuck the prince into bed, and then he takes the time to sweep up and clean his room.

When Byleth leaves Dimitri's room, he notices Sylvain and Ingrid asleep right outside the door, a blanket over them. And to their side, Felix, arms crossed against his chest. Scowling.

"Did you tame the wild boar?"

"Did you put a blanket on them?" Byleth asks. 

Felix's nose scrunches in obvious displeasure. "Fine. Don't answer."

"You should go to bed," Byleth tells him.

"When you do, professor," Felix retorts. He looks as if he will not budge from his spot.

Byleth tries for a smile instead. "I'll go to bed right now."

"Don't lie to me."

He tilts his head to one side. Felix deserves the truth. "I am going to speak with my father before I go."

Felix stares at him for a long, long moment. Finally, he nods. "Will you carry Ingrid to bed?"

"Are you strong enough to carry Sylvain back to his room?"

"Of course I am," Felix hisses, sounding offended, then quiets when Ingrid stirs. 

Byleth nods. He watches as Felix carries Sylvain to his room, then as he disappears into his own. Byleth carries Ingrid into her own room with a bit of effort- he had to open her door while still holding her, and then makes his way back upstairs.

.

When Byleth walks into Seteth's office, he has a guest standing there.

It's not as if Byleth was lying. He really was going to see his father. But he had to make a quick detour first.

Sothis groans loudly once she sees Cornelia there. "I hate her. Byleth, please can you please get rid of her now?"

Byleth says nothing, but does not disagree.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Byleth says, nodding at Seteth. He nods back slowly.

"Oh no," Cornelia coos. "You weren't interrupting anything."

Sothis makes a disgusted sound as Cornelia lifts her hand up slightly. 

Byleth stares at it for a moment before looking away. 

"Well?" Cornelia prompts.

"Well what?"

Cornelia smiles at him sweetly. "It is customary for a gentleman to kiss a lady's hand."

Byleth nods. "Okay." He doesn't move from his spot in the doorway.

Cornelia waves her hand around before she realizes that he isn't moving. "Well, professor?"

"What is it?"

"Aren't you going to kiss my hand?"

Byleth tilts his head in confusion. "I don't see a lady here," he says simply. Seteth makes a noise that sounds like a laugh and a choke.

Cornelia makes a terrifying face, and open her mouth to say something as Seteth clears his throat. "Well. Forgive me, Lady Cornelia, but I must discuss with our professor here."

Her face changes so fast Byleth gets whiplash. "Of course. Don't let me get in the way."

Byleth steps out of the doorway to let her slip by. She nudges him lightly with one shoulder and flips her long hair with a manicured hand as she passes by. Her perfume is so strong Byleth nearly gags. 

When the door closes, Byleth turns back to Seteth. "Why was she here?"

Seteth arranges a few papers on his desk before answering. "She is leaving soon. We were arranging her departure."

Byleth hums. "I see. Why was she here again?"

The man regards him coolly before responding. "To inspect that person's body," Seteth replies. Byleth didn't actually expect him to divulge the real answer. "Lady Rhea needed to confirm some suspicions. Now. Is there anything I can help you with?"

Byleth wants to press, but he also has an urgent matter. "Please talk to Dimitri." 

"What?"

Byleth nods, and then opens the door to step out of the room. "Wait just a moment!" Seteth calls, and Byleth pauses.

"Yes?"

Seteth coughs. "You cannot simply just say that and then leave without explaining!"

Byleth loosens his grip on the door. "You will find that I can," Byleth says, but stays.

"Why do you need me to talk to him? Are you uncomfortable around him? Are you unable to discipline him?"

In response, Byleth shakes his head. "No. Nothing like that. But he needs a lot of support at the moment, and I am not sure that I would be able to provide the sort of support that he requires. You are correct, you know? I am not entirely qualified to be a teacher."

The tiniest bow of his head. "Please talk to Dimitri."

Seteth regards him for a moment. "Did something happen to him?"

"...Yes," Byleth allows quietly. 

The man sighs. "Professor."

"Yes?"

"You are quite mysterious, you know." Seteth begins, standing from his seat. "The Archbishop favors you. Your students favor you. Flayn favors you. And I... Although I have had my reservations about you before, I am slowly beginning to realize what I think they see in you."

Byleth stares at him. 

Seteth frowns. "I am guessing you don't understand. No matter." He walks over to him, and puts a hand on Byleth's shoulder. "I will talk with him, if you so desire. But I will not press for details. I will simply let him know that I am also here to support him."

"Thank you," Byleth breathes. Hopefully, this would help. Even the tiniest bit. Perhaps he would go to Manuela in the morning as well.

.

If he strains his hearing he can just barely make out his father speaking to someone through the walls.

"...can your son read?"

It's Gilbert.

Obvious silence.

"Are you actually _fucking kidding me right now?_" Jeralt demands, audible without any obvious effort to hear him. Byleth winces.

"He _said-_"

"I cannot fucking believe you right now-"

Byleth decides that it's a good time as any to walk into his father's office. "Am I interrupting?"

Inside the room sit his father, Gilbert, and Rodrigue. His father's gaze passes over him, then back to Gilbert, whom he was clearly ripping into. 

Rodrigue points a thumb at Gilbert. "He thinks you can't read," he says, obviously amused. 

"Is that so?" Byleth inquires, with no intention of bailing the man out.

"I still can't believe you," Jeralt insists. "You actually believed that?"

"Forgive me," Gilbert says, flustered.

Byleth is still amazed at the sight of all three of them together. His father never ceased to amaze him. "I am sorry, but I need to speak with my father."

Rodrigue stands from the couch with an easy smile. "Of course."

Gilbert all but runs from the room. When they're both cleared out, Byleth immediately hugs his father. 

"Woah, kiddo-"

"I'm tired," Byleth says, still hugging him.

Jeralt pats his head gently. "I know, kiddo. I'm sorry. Wanna rest here? I've still got work to do."

Byleth curls up on the couch as his father throws his jacket over him, and both he and Sothis, on the couch across from him, fall asleep to the sound of quill meeting paper.

.

When Byleth wakes, his father is gone. There's a bowl with cooked oats in it, drizzled with honey and thin slices of zanado fruit tucked into it. On the side is a hardboiled egg and a glass of water. Byleth eats, a warm feeling in his chest as he waits for Sothis to wake up.

She stirs, yawning. "What is that? Did your father bring you breakfast?"

Byleth shrugs. He looks around the room before he speaks. "Who else would it be?"

"Mm," Sothis makes a sound of agreement. "So we're not going to the mess hall for breakfast?"

"No. I had something in mind," Byleth says, licking the last of the oats from his spoon. "I wanted to practice my Divine Pulse usage today."

Sothis nods in agreement. "Yes. It's best to do it now, on a weekend. Were you planning on testing whether or not you can go back a day or more?"

He cracks open the hardboiled egg, peeling the shell away. "No," Byleth says. "Today I am going to figure out how many Divine Pulses I actually have. Remember what happened when I died?"

Sothis' fists clench at her sides.

"Alright," Sothis says, after a moment. "Well, whenever you are ready, Byleth?" His eyes slip shut.

A rush. His head pulses. 

When his eyes open again, the bowl of oats is full again, the tiniest bit of steam rising from the top. He takes a bite of the oats, then sets his spoon down.

He does this again twelve more times. Byleth watches the bowl of oats replenish, slightly amazed.

Sothis tilts her head to one side. "I guess you really do have thirteen. I wonder what happened last time, then. Are you feeling alright, Byleth? You always did get a headache after you used a pulse. And you did them all in a row."

"I feel fine," Byleth murmurs, then promptly gags up blood and slumps over on the couch. He can hear Sothis faintly screaming as he passes out.

.

Byleth learns that not only does he have thirteen Divine Pulses, he is able to turn back the clock for at most 6 hours without wanting to pass out.

He does not learn why he only had twelve Divine Pulses as he was dying, however. He is still very angry about it.

Very angry.

He also learns that despite everything that happened recently, the Lions treat Dimitri the same. The prince seems relieved for it. Sylvain bumps him reassuringly with his shoulders and Annette's smile still has that same brightness. Felix is still upset with Dimitri, which is not surprising. At least, that's what Byleth has seen so far. It's only been a few minutes since he has seen them today. And they're in the bushes, so he can't really tell.

Byleth has yet to learn the real effect of the other day.

What _is_ surprising is that Edelgard takes her Bergamot tea with a surprising amount of sugar and milk.

As she smiles at him over her teacup, the Blue Lions are hissing in the bushes. So is Sothis. Byleth can relate. When he stares at Edelgard over a platter of cookies, he realizes that he is out of his element.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay im sure it's obvious to yall but. recovery takes a long ass time, especially when it is something like what dimi has experienced. it'll take a lot more than a few people's support to aid him. it is a very interesting topic to write about, and i don't want to make anyone think that things like ptsd can be magically treated so easily and so quickly. it's not even something that some people can even recover from. they will deal with it for the rest of their lives. just a lil reminder. thank u so much
> 
> OKAY BACK TO LESS SERIOUS TOPICS. YALL CAN REALLY TELL I LOVE WRITING BYLETH LOL. SINCE THEY MADE THEM A BLANK CANVAS I CAN DO WHATEVER THE HELL I WANT LOL SO BACKSTORY YEAHHHH
> 
> yes we are like. headfirst in plot. tea time with edel is definitely gonna be fun for byleth lol
> 
> i will reply to your comments in a bit! your love and support means everything. thank u.
> 
> thank you so much for reading! ♡
> 
> byleth/dimitri B rank  
byleth/dedue C+ rank  
byleth/felix B rank  
byleth/annette C+ rank  
byleth/ingrid C+ rank  
byleth/sylvain B rank  
byleth/mercedes C+ rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt C+ rank  
byleth/ferdinand C rank  
byleth/lysithea C rank  
byleth/cyril C rank  
byleth/flayn C+ rank  
byleth/caspar C rank
> 
> byleth/jeritza C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/claude C rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea C+ rank


	22. covet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT WE HIT OVER 3000 KUDOS 
> 
> you guys seriously dont know how much that means to me. thank you so so much. i will never, ever stop thank yall. seriously, it means the world and more. thank you.
> 
> happy belated holidays everyone! i hope everyone had a safe and fun holiday. ♡
> 
> um warning for this chapter. just a warning. there's something in the chapter that made me lose my shit while writing it was so fun lol. but it does have mention of slight explicit content, if u can even call it that. it's barely there, but i thought some of you would like to know. you'll know it when u see it lol and i am so sorry brshshshhsjsjdkisjs

Edelgard von Hresvelg.

She's a tiny thing, with slender wrists that Byleth feels like he could snap with a mere glance. A spine forged from fire and steel. White hair that turned almost translucent in sunlight. A mysterious eye colour that Byleth has never seen in his life. She seemed paler with red against her skin, seemed taller for her presence alone, seemed like someone that Byleth could respect as a leader.

Byleth wondered how tall her headpiece made her, in the future. Wondered if those horns were sharp enough to piece flesh. Wondered why she seemed to have a painful expression when she stared at him, the sort of lidded-eye look someone would get in their eyes when looking at something bright and brilliant.

_Facing you... My heart grows weak._

_ **But why?** _

Byleth cannot say that they have spoken much in his past life. Was Edelgard simply someone that got attached so easily? Did she enjoy the flowers that he gave her for her birthday that much? 

If Byleth had asked, would she have stopped her war?

Perhaps it was when he had 'saved her' from the bandits. Perhaps it was simply respect for his skills. Perhaps Edelgard had one day stared at him out of the corner of her eye and simply realized that she was fond of him for some reason- an inexplicable reason, one that Byleth was unsure of- because he sure was unsure of why she was fond of him. 

However, the thing that Byleth was the most unsure of at the moment was not her odd attachment to him- but _why_ he wasn't whipping out the Sword of the Creator and cutting her throat open.

Right.

Now.

It would be simple. He cannot say that he has never thought about it before. Byleth could poison her tea, watch her turn green, then purple, then paler than snow and foaming at the mouth until she curled over and died. He could sneak into her room into the middle of the night and quietly slit her throat. He could pick up the teapot, right now, and slam it into her head until she bled onto the grass and stopped screaming. He could jump over the table and strangle her until she turned blue.

So why?

_Why wasn't he killing her?_

Byleth looks deep, deep down into himself and searches for even the barest shred of fondness for the girl- and finds nothing.

One word and his father and the mercenaries would slide their blades into her back, and they would run. Goddess knows where. Who cares. She would be dead. Problem solved.

Unfortunately, Byleth knew it wouldn't be that simple. Edelgard had backers. Edelgard was royalty, for crying out loud- one word and it was over for him. 

"You have a goddess on your side," Sothis offers, saccharine sweet.

_I am not sure that you would help matters._

Sothis smiles at him, languid and tender. "You know, you could just ask me, right? Right now."

She drapes herself over Byleth's back like a blanket, and wraps both arms around his neck very lightly. "It'd be fine, Byleth," she murmurs quietly. "I can kill her for you. No need to bloody your hands for beasts."

"_Watch,_" Sothis breathes into his ear. Unwittingly, his arm raises at her command, and Byleth widens his eyes.

The hand ever so slowly slides off of the table and onto Byleth's lap. It fastens itself around Airgetlam, and he can feel the reassuring coolness of it bite into his palm. There is a slight tremor about his movement- but not of fear.

**Excitement.**

His index finger traces the divots and curves of the hilt.

"See?" Sothis offers, and Byleth can feel the smile against his ear. "Look and see. Watch how easily she'll die to the dagger."

Byleth's head is light. 

It's never been more clear in his life.

"I can do it, Byleth," Sothis says. "You won't even think about picking up the dagger. She'll die, right here. Right now. Just say the word!"

He's not sure that he's ever heard Sothis more eager, or more elated.

A thought occurs to him.

_The..._

Something is pulling at his memory.

_The Lions are watching from the bushes,_ Byleth thinks, but that's a foggy thought compared to finally, finally, finally _finally finally **finally-**_

"Am I boring you, professor?"

Byleth snaps out of his odd state to blink up at Edelgard, who is busy adding another cube of sugar to her tea. Picking up a tiny, silver spoon, she mixes the sugar in, along with the three other cubes she had added prior, and takes a sip. 

He opens his mouth to warn her about the temperature of the tea but he finds that she figures it out herself as she winces around the cup.

"It's hot," Byleth admonishes her, instead of answering her question.

Edelgard sets the cup down and it does not clatter against the plate. "I figured that out myself, thanks. Why did you invite me to tea?"

"We didn't particularly want to," Sothis spits, sticking out her tongue at the girl. "Don't flatter yourself."

Byleth shrugs his shoulders. "I felt guilty about not bringing you to tea on your birthday," _no,_ "and I wanted to invite you when I was free." 

"Ah. So you only invited me because you had no one else to invite?" Edelgard prompts. Something on Byleth's face must show an odd expression, for she chances a look at him and smiles. "I'm joking."

From the bushes, Ferdinand and Caspar look mildly horrified- or perhaps that's shock. Linhardt looks as if he's about to fall asleep, right then and there. But that is what he always looks like.

"Haha," Sothis mocks. "Ha. Ha. Ha. You're soooooo funny."

_Sothis, please stop._

"I bet _she_ didn't stop when innocent civilians begged her for mercy-"

_Sothis, not now please._

As Sothis pouts and curses up a storm angrily at his back, Byleth pours himself another cup and wipes off the excess from the spout of the teapot with a handkerchief he's hidden in his cloak. He then sets the pot down gently enough that it doesn't make more than a dull thud against the table.

Of course, Edelgard watches all of this with an unveiled fascination. "You're more meticulous than I thought," she states, taking another sip of tea.

"Is that an insult?" Byleth asks coolly.

"An admission," Edelgard tells him, unfazed. "I didn't think you were the type."

Something is swirling between them. "What sort of type did you think I was? Distant, arrogant?"

Her mask cracks the tiniest bit as she gapes at him for a split second. "Ah, I see," Edelgard says simply, "you're using my words against me."

Byleth can briefly remember her introducing herself in the hall, where she seemed incredulous that Byleth would ask about her. That they perhaps had things in common. 

He says nothing, and she turns her gaze to stare at the tablecloth. 

"Are you..." she trails off. Unwilling to speak first, Byleth grabs a chocolate cookie from the platter of sweets and waits.

"Are you glaring at me?" Edelgard asks. It sounds more like a statement than an actual question. "Or... are you upset with me, for some reason?"

Byleth shakes his head softly. "That's just my face." 

It was true. Byleth was just the master of a blank stare and expressions that would never give away his true thoughts and feelings. 

And if he was glaring at her, then how would she know?

She nods, looking satisfied at the answer. "Like Hubert."

Byleth's eyes trail over to the bushes to examine them. He's quite surprised that he can't see Hubert in any of them, hiding like the Blue Lions are.

"Where is..."

"Hubert?" Edelgard finishes his sentence. "Oh, I made sure I did not tell Hubert that we were sharing tea today. He would do his best to disrupt us, and that just wouldn't do. Besides, I wanted to talk with you as well. I have a feeling you have some questions for me. I have one for you as well."

"Oh," Byleth says, thrown. "Okay."

_Why did you start a war. Why have you killed so many people and call it for the good of Fódlan. Why do you hate Rhea, why do you care so much about me, why-_

"What kind of sweets do you like most?" Byleth blurts. 

He can hear the bush gasp alongside Sothis screaming. To be honest, he feels just as shocked as Edelgard looks. He guesses that she as well did not expect such a question.

"Cakes," Edelgard replies after a moment. Her stare has changed from intense to something that Byleth cannot quite put his fingers on. "Anything sweet, really. Puddings and meringue topping."

There is a brief pause before Byleth blurts out something equally stupid again. "What about the opera? Do you enjoy the opera?"

Edelgard's shoulders seem to relax. "Yes, I do. I've gained a better appreciation for it ever since I have become acquainted with Dorothea. There is something wonderful about when a group of talented people are able to put their talents on display to make others entertained."

Byleth nods. Again, his next words come unrestrained.

"What makes you think you can be a good ruler?" Byleth asks, quieter now. He watches as she stiffens in her chair, almost imperceptibly.

Even Sothis is silent.

Edelgard takes a moment to think about his words, as if she's savoring them. "I suppose that I have been honest with all my other answers. Because I will do all that I can to fulfill my responsibilities to the people."

Momentarily, Byleth feels as if he has no control over his body. His mouth moves without permission, and only then does Byleth realize that it's Sothis.

"That's awfully vague," he hears himself say. "What responsibilities?"

"The Empire has fallen from its former glory," Edelgard replies evenly. "I want to strengthen my people."

Byleth does not miss her choice of words. Neither does Sothis, apparently.

'My.'

"Oh?" Sothis inquires, still speaking through Byleth. Her grip on his body is loose enough that Byleth could shake free from her control at any time, but he wants to hear Sothis speak. "How so?"

"...Are you speaking as yourself or as a professor?" Edelgard asks.

Shrugging, Sothis eyes Edelgard warily. "What's the difference?"

In response, Edelgard tilts her head as if to concede the point. A beat passes before Edelgard speaks again. "When I rule, I would like everyone to be equal. Meritocracy would be ideal."

Her mouth opens, then closes again. He supposes that she would not reveal more than that.

Sothis rolls her eyes, and panicked, Byleth takes back control over his body. It's too late. Edelgard has already seen him roll his eyes.

"Is... Is there a problem, professor?"

Byleth hums a little. "Meritocracy wouldn't solve everyone's problems," Byleth says simply. "And a demand for equality will simply anger those who already have such privileges."

He watches as an indignant flush rises to Edelgard's cheeks. "Oh?"

Byleth shakes his head. "I am not saying that equality is bad. Far from it, actually. Besides, merit is subjective. Who is allowed to determine whether or not people are worthy of anything? If you're basing value by merit, then those with the most power already stand above the common folk. People with disabilities, or the poor, or those who are already struggling will have less of a chance to change their station."

"Then how would you implement things like equality and meritocracy, professor?" Edelgard asks, looking genuinely curious. "Please, tell me. How would you rule?"

That is not a question that Byleth has ever considered in his life, nor does he intend on considering, ever. He hasn't missed the way Edelgard did not comment on the rest of what he had said.

"Not by starting a war and forcing my rule over innocents," Sothis offers sweetly. Byleth feels relieved that she no longer has control over his body.

Byleth takes another sip of tea. "Does my opinion actually matter to you, or are you asking out of politeness?"

Edelgard glances at her own tea cup for a moment, then regards Byleth again.

She smiles at him, which stuns Byleth momentarily. Inexplicably, Byleth feels wildly uncomfortable.

"This actually leads into my question. Would you be willing to lead the Black Eagles? I find that your opinions, and your strength, would be beneficial to us."

"Over my dead body!" Sothis exclaims, as urgent hushed whispers grow louder and louder from the bush.

"No," Byleth says simply. The ruckus from the bush immediately calms. 

Edelgard breathes out a puff of air, which would be a sigh coming from anyone else. "A shame," Edelgard says, seemingly genuine. "May I ask why?"

Sothis helpfully offers up a string of curses as an answer, and before Byleth can actually reply, Hubert emerges from nowhere.

"Lady Edelgard," he says, walking up to the princess and whispering something in her ear.

With an expression that seems disappointed, Edelgard stands from her chair. "Pardon me, professor. There are some urgent matters I must attend to."

Byleth shrugs. "It's fine. Go on."

She nods at him, and turns to leave, but pauses halfway. "Won't you think about it?" 

"I've made my decision," Byleth says.

Edelgard tilts her head very slightly, and then turns and walks away, Hubert on her heels.

He's so preoccupied with Edelgard's outrageous question that he nearly misses the Lions stumbling out of the bushes, huge smiles on their faces.

_Maybe I should have poisoned her._

"I told you so!"

.

Byleth is heading to the dining hall to grab some dinner when voices rise from around the corner. Curious, he peeks around to see Sylvain and Dimitri talking about something.

The tone is pleasant for a moment. "...him a dagger," Sylvain says, as Byleth strains his ears to hear.

Dimitri says something, and suddenly the atmosphere changes. Even Byleth can feel it, even though he was not a part of the conversation.

"...just worried about you, Dimitri." 

"...please don't tell the professor-"

Sothis' eyes shine. "Tell the professor what?"

"...lix, Ingrid and I are just..."

Ah.

Byleth shakes his head. _Sothis, this isn't something we should listen in on.___

_ _

_ _"Booooo," Sothis says, but says nothing more._ _

_ _

_ _When they walk into the mess hall, it's emptier than usual. And by usual, he only sees that one of the Lions is there at their usual table._ _

_ _

_ _Byleth picks up tonight's dish, pickled seafood and vegetables, and sits next to Annette, who was frantically taking notes, surrounded with books stacked relatively high. _ _

_ _

_ _"Hello, Annette," Byleth greets, sitting next to her. Annette scribbles in a last word before looking up at Byleth. _ _

_ _

_ _"Hello, professor!"_ _

_ _

_ _"Where are the others?"_ _

_ _

_ _Annette grins wider, waving him off. "Ah, they just finished eating. Don't worry, they didn't abandon me or anything! I just wanted to finish this next chapter in the textbook while I'm already sitting down. I already ate."_ _

_ _

_ _Byleth nods, and tucks into his meal with vigor. He's surprised at how tasty the caledonian gar is raw- alongside the turnip and other asserted vegetables. Maybe next time he could try and make the dish himself._ _

_ _

_ _Abruptly, he notices Claude, Hilda, and Marianne standing up from their table and walking over to theirs._ _

_ _

_ _Marianne is pushed gently in front of the professor, wringing her hands. "Go on!" Hilda encourages. "The professor is kind. He won't bite, promise."_ _

_ _

_ _"Um," Marianne attempts, and then stops. _ _

_ _

_ _Claude smiles daintily at her. "Come on, Marianne. It's fine."_ _

_ _

_ _"I-I'm sorry for being presumptuous... Or for even approaching you, but..." Marianne trails off, looking everywhere but Byleth's face. "I saw. You! I saw you..."_ _

_ _

_ _"Me?" Byleth inquires, not trying to push the girl. He was really quite fond of Marianne. In his past life, she was a Blue Lion, and a fantastic healer. "What is it, Marianne?"_ _

_ _

_ _"C-can we t-talk somewhere with," Marianne pauses to gulp. "Less p-people?"_ _

_ _

_ _"You can say it here!" Claude says, with bright eyes._ _

_ _

_ _Hilda whirls on Claude. "Don't force her," she insists, even though she too has an expectant expression._ _

_ _

_ _Marianne takes a deep breath. "Um. The other day, I- I saw you throwing up in the bushes. A-are you okay?"_ _

_ _

_ _"You've been throwing up, professor?!" Annette exclaims, looking worried. "No way, why didn't you tell us?! We have to get you to Manuela, right now!"_ _

_ _

_ _Sothis frowns. "Where was she... No matter. Brush it off, Byleth."_ _

_ _

_ _Lazily, Claude stretches his arms over his head. "Maybe teach is a wild drinker."_ _

_ _

_ _Annette turns her wide eyes on Claude. "Absolutely not," she declares. "Professor chugged an-"_ _

_ _

_ _Byleth covers her mouth with one hand gently. For some reason, he was embarrassed._ _

_ _

_ _"But I really do think that you should, um, go to a healer," Marianne tells Byleth, not looking at his face. "You've been looking... sicker as of late..."_ _

_ _

_ _As of late, Byleth has been spending all of his nights trying to extend his Divine Pulse usage. He went from six hours to six and a half without feeling ill, which didn't satisfy Byleth in the slightest. Still, progress was progress._ _

_ _

_ _Something occurs to him. "You've been watching me, Marianne?" Byleth asks, finally taking his hand off of Annette's mouth._ _

_ _

_ _A pink flush spreads over her pale face, making her slump slightly. "N-no. No, it's not what you-"_ _

_ _

_ _Instead of finishing her sentence, Marianne quickly walks back to her table._ _

_ _

_ _"Aw, professor," Hilda whines. "You scared her off! She was doing so well, too."_ _

_ _

_ _"But I really do think that you should go see Manuela," Annette insists, standing from her spot on the bench and yanking Byleth's arm up with her. Byleth can do little but follow._ _

_ _

_ _Annette pulls him from his seat, and Byleth frowns._ _

_ _

_ _"My fish..." Byleth says, mournfully._ _

_ _

_ _"I'll make you some sweets later," Annette tells him, still not releasing his arm. For some reason, Claude and Hilda are following them._ _

_ _

_ _Byleth looks at them sideways. _ _

_ _

_ _Claude just grins at him. "We're worried about you, professor."_ _

_ _

_ _"Well, I came to interrogate him," Hilda says sweetly. "What do you think of Dimitri?"_ _

_ _

_ _Byleth raises a brow. That came out of nowhere._ _

_ _

_ _"He is my student," Byleth replies._ _

_ _

_ _"But what do you really think?" Hilda insists, clasping her hands together. "Come on. It's just us."_ _

_ _

_ _"And Claude, and Annette," Sothis states blandly._ _

_ _

_ _Byleth thinks to himself for a moment, still allowing Annette to drag him limply to Manuela's office. "He is a person of great potential," Byleth says._ _

_ _

_ _Hilda stares at him._ _

_ _

_ _"What is it?"_ _

_ _

_ _Rolling her eyes, Hilda pouts. "You're sooooo boring, professor. Don't you have eyes? Don't you have a romantic bone in your body? Don't you know what a crush is, or what romance is? Come on, Claude. Let's go."_ _

_ _

_ _Claude turns a sharp grin on her. "Not yet. I've still got a couple questions for teach here."_ _

_ _

_ _The two of them share a look that Byleth is definitely not privy to._ _

_ _

_ _"We're here!" Annette says cheerfully, and shoos Byleth off to sit him on the bed. "I guess Manuela's not here, huh. I'll go look for her! Hilda, come with me!"_ _

_ _

_ _"Wha-"_ _

_ _

_ _It's too late for her. Annette has already linked their arms and is smiling at her. Hilda, stunned at the sight of her smile, cannot do much but allow herself to be pulled._ _

_ _

_ _Byleth huffs, then turns to a grinning Claude. "What did you need, Claude?"_ _

_ _

_ _With a strange flourish, Claude pulls a stool up to him and sits down. "I'll keep this simple. Why did you have tea with Edelgard?"_ _

_ _

_ _Something in Claude's eyes has changed. It's odd, being on the receiving end on one of his intense stares._ _

_ _

_ _"I wanted to have tea with her," Byleth says, which makes Claude snort._ _

_ _

_ _"Yeah, okay teach," Claude says, incredulous. "I was just passing by, and you looked like you wanted to run."_ _

_ _

_ _"Yeah, okay," Sothis mocks, "I doubt you were just 'passing by.'"_ _

_ _

_ _Byleth shrugs._ _

_ _

_ _To this, Claude sighs. "Okay, don't tell me the truth," Claude says easily. "Can I ask you something else, then?"_ _

_ _

_ _Sothis and Byleth share a brief look. "If you want to," Byleth says._ _

_ _

_ _"Why did you choose the Blue Lions?" Claude asks, cheerfully pleasant. Too pleasant. Byleth wondered if this was a test of some sort._ _

_ _

_ __Because of everything I am,_ Byleth thinks. But he can't exactly say that. He thinks back on why he originally settled on the Lions, and his lips thin out briefly. Claude catches the motion, but says nothing. Quietly, secretly, Byleth is grateful._ _

_ _

_ _"In my line of work," Byleth says quietly, "I would not follow you into battle. You keep your cards too close to your chest. You smile too wide, too eagerly. To me, you seemed sleazy. I would not be able to trust you with my men. Maybe."_ _

_ _

_ _Claude smothers a snort. _ _

_ _

_ _"I'm sorry, that was rude," Byleth says. "But part of me is intrigued by how mysterious you are. Maybe in another life, I would have joined the Deer."_ _

_ _

_ _"And why didn't you join the Eagles?"_ _

_ _

_ _Byleth studies him for a moment, then drops his gaze. He doesn't know if he wants to look for anything in his expression, let alone even find it. "I just didn't like the way Edelgard looked at me."_ _

_ _

_ _When they first met, even with his limited access to emotion, Byleth knew Edelgard looked at him like a particular pawn the chess player wanted to sacrifice in exchange for victory. A speck of dirt on an otherwise gleaming piece of armor. A face rather than a person._ _

_ _

_ _Of course, her expression changed when Edelgard saw him cut the bandits down._ _

_ _

_ _Byleth is, and always will be, the master of expressions, blank or otherwise. The way Edelgard regarded him as he wiped blood from an iron sword was not pleasant in the slightest._ _

_ _

_ _Claude nods, as if that made perfect sense to him. "You know, teach, I think I have been underestimating you a little."_ _

_ _

_ _"Okay," Byleth says, not knowing what else to say._ _

_ _

_ _Just for a second, Claude's smile drops before it's fastened back onto his face. "I actually have another question. I would rather you not answer than lie."_ _

_ _

_ _Byleth doesn't respond, so Claude keeps talking. "Is Dimitri...okay?" He then blinks, as if surprised by his own question. "Never mind."_ _

_ _

_ _Standing from the stool, he walks towards the door before stopping. When he turns, there's another easy grin on his face. "I wanna be friends, teach. That alright with you?"_ _

_ _

_ _What an odd thing to say. Byleth blinks. "Okay," he says quietly._ _

_ _

_ _Claude nods, before leaving the room. Only seconds after does Manuela, Annette, and Hilda burst in the room. He supposes that he can think about it later, completely missing Sothis' speculative look._ _

_ _

_ _._ _

_ _

_ _ _"Brucey!"_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _The waves lapped onto the shore, the sapphire colour striking underneath the ruby sunset. Henrietta's rosy red cheeks flushed under that sky, her hands folded on her chest and above her round, supple breasts. Her chest swelled as she breathed, and her dainty nipples poked through her near-see through white dress. Henrietta's pillowy breasts bounced as she ran towards her built lover, Bruce, who was also built in more ways than one. The round, soft orbs on her torso jiggled and-_ _ _

_ _

_ _Byleth looks up from the novel Manuela has so graciously gifted him. She's filing her nails with great concentration, completely unaware of the turmoil she has just put Byleth through. Sothis is on the floor dying, along with his brain._ _

_ _

_ _After Manuela had determined that it was simply stress and exhaustion, and that Byleth only needed more rest, Annette was satisfied and left the room after lightly scolding Byleth. Hilda breathed a sigh of relief as she was set free._ _

_ _

_ _The moment they left, Byleth asked Manuela about romance, still perplexed about Hilda's words._ _

_ _

_ _Which left him here._ _

_ _

_ _Full of regret._ _

_ _

_ _"I can't read," Byleth says._ _

_ _

_ _Manuela looks up from her nails. "Oh come now, professor, 'Sunset Rapture' isn't that bad!"_ _

_ _

_ _He nearly snorts as he flips to a new page, and begins to read aloud. "Oh Brucey, dearest," Byleth says, completely monotone, "my breasts have been quivering anxiously ever since your frightful departure. How could you leave my soft chest alone-"_ _

_ _

_ _"Okay, I get it!" Manuela says, struggling through her sentence due to fitful wheezes of laughter. "But I promise that the sequel is better."_ _

_ _

_ _Flipping through the pages with a blank expression, Byleth sighs. "'Moonlight Rapture? 'Twilight Rapture?' What about 'Midday Rapture?'"_ _

_ _

_ _The chair that Manuela is sitting on squeaks as she turns to face Byleth properly. "It's 'Midnight Rapture' actually, professor. Since you wanted to know so badly."_ _

_ _

_ _"I did not."_ _

_ _

_ _"Well now you know."_ _

_ _

_ _Byleth's nose wrinkles. "Is this really what quantifies as romance to you?"_ _

_ _

_ _"Okay, smart guy, what do you know about romance?" Manuela demands, looking as if her pride was on the line._ _

_ _

_ _Absentmindedly, Byleth makes a small motion with one hand. "I was supposed to marry someone," Byleth offers. _ _

_ _

_ _When he looks back at Manuela, she looks shocked. _ _

_ _

_ _"Is it really so surprising?" Byleth asks softly._ _

_ _

_ _She clears her throat, looking embarrassed. "No, I just... Sorry, I hit on you so much, if I knew you had a... Wait. You said 'supposed.' Are you not engaged anymore? Or married?"_ _

_ _

_ _"He's not here," Byleth tells her, matter of fact. So he doesn't know why she looks down at her lap, expression sad._ _

_ _

_ _"Oh."_ _

_ _

_ _Byleth shrugs. "It's fine."_ _

_ _

_ _Clearing her throat, Manuela suddenly looks at him with a very serious expression._ _

_ _

_ _"What is it?" Byleth asks._ _

_ _

_ _"We have to go man hunting," Manuela tells him, determined. "It'll be so much fun with another person!"_ _

_ _

_ _Byleth shrugs, running a finger down his sword to reassure of himself of its sharpness. "Sure. Give me a description, or a name. I can take care of them, no problem."_ _

_ _

_ _Manuela stares at him, mouth agape. "No! No, I didn't mean _killing_ anyone, I meant we're going to go out onto the town and look for attractive men! Or women, if you're also into women as well."_ _

_ _

_ _"Oh," Byleth replies, taking his hand off of the blade. "But why?"_ _

_ _

_ _"The best way to get over a broken heart is to go looking for another beau," Manuela insists, standing from her chair. "Trust me, I'm an expert."_ _

_ _

_ _"That sounds unhealthy," Byleth states._ _

_ _

_ _She gives him a look. "I'm the expert here, professor, trust me."_ _

_ _

_ _"I should have went to someone else for advice," Byleth says honestly, staring at her intense expression. She was a little terrifying at the moment._ _

_ _

_ _Manuela sighs. "Yeah, I'm sorry. It's different, since you were... Anyway. Please? Come on, you can be my wingman. I'll owe you a favor."_ _

_ _

_ _"Yeah?"_ _

_ _

_ _"Yeah."_ _

_ _

_ _Byleth stares her down. "Then, could you speak with Dimitri?"_ _

_ _

_ _._ _

_ _

_ _Footsteps seem to echo louder to Byleth's ears in the eerie darkness of the hallways upstairs. There is something like the faintest thud and a chair sliding ever so inelegantly across wooden floors, so Byleth hurries his pace ever so slightly and finds him quietly opening the door to the library._ _

_ _

_ _Glowing in the flickering candlelight is Dimitri, poring over a thick book. There's a few more stacked onto the table next to him, all dull shades of colour and frighteningly thick for someone that would be unaccustomed to such a read. The thin candle is dripping long strands of white wax into the lamp below. It's become quite stout, which Byleth takes to know that Dimitri has been here for quite a while._ _

_ _

_ _The prince does not even look up as Byleth slides through the door. He makes slightly more noise than usual, as to alert his presence, yet still he does not look up._ _

_ _

_ _Only when Byleth sits across from him does Dimitri look up to meet his eyes._ _

_ _

_ _"Professor," he greets, sounding exhausted._ _

_ _

_ _Byleth tilts his head in greeting. "You sound tired. You should go to bed."_ _

_ _

_ _A small chuckle leaves Dimitri's mouth. "Give me a few more minutes, okay professor? I promise I'll go after that."_ _

_ _

_ _Byleth nods. "Want me to keep you company?"_ _

_ _

_ _A second passes. "I always want your company, professor," Dimitri says._ _

_ _

_ _Nodding once more, Byleth heads to the bookshelf, pulls out a random cookbook, and sits back down in his spot prior._ _

_ _

_ _They spend about thirty minutes in complete, companionable silence before Dimitri speaks._ _

_ _

_ _"Thank you, professor."_ _

_ _

_ _"For what?"_ _

_ _

_ _Dimitri closes his book, but slips his thumb inside to save his page. Another drop of wax slides down the candle slowly. "For everything," Dimitri says softly. "For telling me stories when I... when I did that. For cleaning my room. For looking after me. For... for everything, really."_ _

_ _

_ _Byleth stares down at a picture of fish soup before responding. He doesn't know what expression Dimitri is making. "I only did what anyone else would do," Byleth says quietly. "You don't need to thank me."_ _

_ _

_ _"But I want to," Dimitri insists. "You've done so much for me, professor. I want... At the very least, I can thank you. I promise to repay you. I'll spend the rest of my days giving you everything you want, when I'm capable of it."_ _

_ _

_ _Now that statement is a little alarming to Byleth's ears. "Don't," Byleth says. "It was a small thing, and I would help you, again and again."_ _

_ _

_ _"It wasn't small to me," Dimitri says. "I- I want to tell you so many things, but I just... It's not the time. But at the very least, I can tell you this."_ _

_ _

_ _The candle flickers._ _

_ _

_ _"I came here for revenge," Dimitri says quietly, and it's much sadder than the last time he's said it. "I had no idea that I would be finding much more when I came to the academy. One day, I will have my revenge. And one day, I will repay you. I am at your command. Should you will it, I would kill if you so desired."_ _

_ _

_ _Byleth tries for a smile. "I can kill my enemies myself," he says. _ _

_ _

_ _"I am well aware," Dimitri replies. "You, you who are so strong and so kind... I... I just want to do things for you. I want to make you as happy as you make me."_ _

_ _

_ _"Well, I would be happy if you went to bed, Dimitri," Byleth admonishes. He tries to steal the book away from Dimitri's fingers, but Dimitri has always been stronger than him, and doesn't even budge._ _

_ _

_ _"There are a lot of things that I would like," Dimitri says quietly. "But I cannot have."_ _

_ _

_ _"What do you want right now?" Byleth asks. Surely he could grant this wish, at least. He wanted to keep his mind off of whatever it was that was keeping Dimitri awake._ _

_ _

_ _Dimitri's eyes trail over Byleth's face very, very slowly. His thumb slips out of the page in his book, and the cover makes a small, dull sound as it closes. _ _

_ _

_ _"What do I want?" Dimitri asks, and for some reason his voice is hoarse._ _

_ _

_ _Byleth shrugs. "Anything you desire, I'll give to you."_ _

_ _

_ _He watches as the prince swallows slowly. Very slowly. The sound is audible enough that Byleth can hear it, loud and clear, in this quiet library._ _

_ _

_ _"Anything?" _ _

_ _

_ _"That is indeed what I said."_ _

_ _

_ _Dimitri pulls at the collar of his uniform, tugging it away from his neck. He's not looking at Byleth, but when he does, it's never at his eyes. It's his throat, his hands, and his collarbone. Was it just Byleth's imagination, or was Dimitri blushing from the neck up? The candlelight was too dim, and far too orange. Poor boy. It must be too hot in the library. _ _

_ _

_ _Now Dimitri's gaze is far too intense. Byleth blinks a bit. "Would you like a new shield?" Byleth asks, watching the boy still in his chair. "Perhaps a new lance? I can make you fish stew. It has to be something in my power."_ _

_ _

_ _Dimitri runs a hand over his face._ _

_ _

_ _"...What is it?" Byleth did say that he would like to give Dimitri something nice, but he was rather short on money at the moment. Maybe he wanted a silver weapon and was too shy about it._ _

_ _

_ _A smile, too sharp to be just pleasant. "May I ask you again in the future? It seems as if I must wait for the right time."_ _

_ _

_ _Byleth wonders if, in the future, he'll ask kindly for Edelgard's head to be hung from the gates of Enbarr._ _

_ _

_ _If that was what he wanted-_ _

_ _

_ _"Of course," Byleth says. "But you must remind me. My memory is not... the greatest."_ _

_ _

_ _"I will," Dimitri says, looking happier. His shoulders seem lighter, and so Byleth is pleased._ _

_ _

_ _After walking Dimitri to his room with soft good nights, Byleth drags himself to his room and collapses onto his bed._ _

_ _

_ _Yawning, Sothis pushes at his back gently. "Move over, I want some space on the bed too."_ _

_ _

_ _At first, he doesn't move, but he then sits up very suddenly. "I need to practice my pulses again," Byleth murmurs, and Sothis frowns at him._ _

_ _

_ _"Remember what Manuela said? Stress and exhaustion. Nope, you are going straight to bed."_ _

_ _

_ _Byleth frowns. Surely one or two Divine Pulses wouldn't hurt. _ _

_ _

_ _Reading his mind, Sothis rolls his eyes. "Don't say I didn't warn you," she scolds, and two Pulses later, Byleth collapses on his bed._ _

_ _

_ _"Byleth," Sothis says, and then louder, when he doesn't reply. "BYLETH!"_ _

_ _

_ _Running her hands through her hair, she curses and dives back into his mind, finding him collapsed on the throne._ _

_ _

_ _Sothis places a palm on his forehead. "Exhaustion," she whispers to herself, "Byleth, Byleth, you always overwork yourself. I know that you will be fine when you wake, but honestly! Making me worry... How rude! I know you're not dead, and just collapsed, but really! Look at you!"_ _

_ _

_ _She stares down at the bags under his eyes and sighs. "Sleep in your mind a little longer. I will protect you."_ _

_ _

_ _Reappearing in their bedroom, Sothis sits on the floor and attempts to brush hair from his forehead, humming a familiar song softly._ _

_ _

_ _Hours pass._ _

_ _

_ _A knock on the door, and only then does Sothis realize that Byleth has only been asleep for a couple of hours._ _

_ _

_ _"Professor?" A voice asks. It's Dimitri._ _

_ _

_ _"Curses," Sothis hisses. She doesn't want to wake Byleth up. He spent quite a bit of his energy on the pulses._ _

_ _

_ _Making sure Byleth was still peacefully asleep, Sothis sits up in Byleth's body. Using a voice she does not own, she speaks. _ _

_ _

_ _"Come in," she says, and Dimitri enters, closing the door behind him politely. When he stops to look at Sothis, he gapes. "You're- you're smiling, professor!"_ _

_ _

_ _Oops. She had forgotten that Byleth does not often smile at people to greet them._ _

_ _

_ _Sothis rearranges Byleth's face to fall into his usual blank expression. "Was I?"_ _

_ _

_ _Dimitri coughs a little, looking away from Sothis. "Well. Come on now, professor. I was sent to wake you, just in case. The battle of the Eagle and Lion is today, and they're serving an early breakfast."_ _

_ _

_ _"Was that today?" Sothis asks, briefly debating if she should wake Byleth for this. Suddenly, a thought occurs to her, and she cannot help her sharp smirk._ _

_ _

_ _ _The battle of the Eagle and Lion._ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _Edelgard's decapitated head, presented to Byleth when he wakes._ _ _

_ _

_ _What a wonderful belated birthday gift!_ _

_ _

_ _"I cannot wait," Sothis says, and can't suppress her smirk. Hopefully this would all be resolved by the time Byleth woke up. She did want him to get a good night's rest, after all._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHAHAHHAHAAHAHAHAHA DUN DUN DUN
> 
> persona voice: ive been waiting for this
> 
> could u tell that i had so much fun writing this lol. i seriously cannot wait to share with you what happens next. im sorry for the cliffhanger (again) but what better way to end it ♡♡♡♡♡
> 
> i promise that i will respond to your comments soon!
> 
> thank you so much for reading! ♡
> 
> byleth/dimitri B rank  
byleth/dedue C+ rank  
byleth/felix B rank  
byleth/annette C+ rank  
byleth/ingrid C+ rank  
byleth/sylvain B rank  
byleth/mercedes C+ rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt C+ rank  
byleth/ferdinand C rank  
byleth/lysithea C rank  
byleth/cyril C rank  
byleth/flayn C+ rank  
byleth/caspar C rank
> 
> byleth/jeritza C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/claude C rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea C+ rank


	23. perpetual storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was rereading godspeed the other day to fact check some stuff in order to make sure it aligned with future stuff and dear god there are so many mistakes lol. if you're here and you still enjoy godspeed thank you so much lol aagaahhhhh i need to revise some stuff
> 
> aaaaaa im so happy yall seemed to like the last chapter i was so nervous lol. ♡♡♡♡
> 
> okay BIG WARNING. SERIOUSLY BIG WARNING. SPOILERS FOR VERDANT WIND, SILVER SNOW, AND SOME OF RHEA AND SOTHIS. LIKE ACTUALLY BIG WARNING PLEASE TAKE CARE. also a lil bit of violence. thank u ♡ take care
> 
> ILL EDIT THIS LATER TO ACTUALLY LEAD TO THE LINK BUT IM HEADING OUT NOW. BUT PLEASE LOOK AT THIS VIDEO THE LOVELY MAUVE-MOON MADE AGAIN edit: did it! [wonderful vid](https://mauve-moon.tumblr.com/post/190084866119/here-is-another-video-with-memes-for-quags1res)

"It's raining, professor."

Sothis looks up to the sky to see a light drizzle. It's a cloudy gray, and the clouds covered just enough of the sky to block out the sun. The kind of weather that Byleth would sigh at as he stared out of the windows, the kind of weather that made him go completely blank.

She understood why, but to her, rain was simply just rain. Rather than an omen, Sothis found the light drops of water soothing. A single trickle lands on her nose from the roof, and she blinks at it.

Rain was just rain.

Rain was just rain, but it did not rain today during Byleth's past life. And Sothis was never not suspicious. Byleth was trusting, and softer than he seemed, so she had to do her part and be hard and unyielding.

"Careful, professor," Dimitri tells her. "The steps are slightly slippery."

Almost rolling her eyes, Sothis pads gently down the stone stairs. It wasn't as if the steps were high. They were simply leaving Byleth's quarters.

An idea occurs to her.

Very obviously and very slowly, Sothis pretends to slip on the last step. 

Predictably, Dimitri catches Sothis. He wraps one arm around the small of their back and uses the other to grasp their hand. It is as if they were locked in a dance, slow motion in the rain.

Dimitri gazes at them, something about the look longing. It's not directed at Sothis, nor would she want it to be, so she feels wildly uncomfortable. As if she were intruding upon a look she was not allowed to see- reserved for one person alone.

Sothis smiles to herself. She hoped that both Dimitri and Byleth were grateful. But did his hand have to dip so low? Should she be concerned for Byleth?

"Are you okay, professor?!" Dimitri demands, sounding a bit shrill. A drop of rain slides down a strand of his hair and falls onto Byleth's cheek. 

She takes this moment to study the boy. His evident crush on Byleth was so obvious that Sothis was actually embarrassed that Byleth did not notice. However, she was still quite concerned.

Not of the matter of his obvious affection. Sothis had already approved of him long ago. Rummaging through Byleth's memory, she could find nothing she disliked about the man. He had his own ghosts, but really, who didn't? Dimitri was a wonderful, compassionate leader. Strong, both mentally and physically. Not horrible to look at. Was aware of his own imperfections, and worked upon them. Taught orphans. Thoughtful and intelligent.

Someone who cared deeply for Byleth. 

So far, he passed.

Maybe it was just as well that Byleth did not notice. It would be inappropriate for him to have romantic inclinations towards his student. Besides, Byleth would never lay a hand on him, or have any thoughts leaning away from platonic affection.

He was still thinking of Dima, after all.

We- I am not a damsel, Sothis wants to spit. 

"I am fine," she says instead. After all, Sothis was the one who started it. She glances at his pink face and bites back a giggle. This prince was absolutely ridiculous. Was it the proximity of their faces that made his heart race? Was it them holding hands that made his blush?

Or, the most likely answer of them all- it was just Byleth that made Dimitri feel this way.

Sothis wants to scream. How long was he going to touch Byleth? 

"I'm sorry," Dimitri says, apparently in the business of reading her mind. He sets her upright and frees her from his grasp. Dimitri looked ashamed, so Sothis would let this incident slide. "I did not mean to hold onto you for so long, professor."

Awkwardly clearing his throat, Dimitri tilts his head in direction of the dining hall. "Everyone is waiting for us. Shall we go now, professor?"

Sothis tilts her head. It seemed as if she was looking upon a puppy. "Of course," she says, and they continue to walk. 

It's a short distance, but apparently Dimitri is eager to break their seven second silence by making small talk. "So? What's our strategy for today, professor? I'm looking forward to it. Your tactics will be as wonderful and as insightful as usual. It's as if you can see into the future- where the enemy is going, who they will attack, and so on and so forth."

Sothis tilts her head. Because Byleth had already seen this fight in a past life, he had already drawn diagrams of where everyone would move and what they would attack with. Although Byleth's memory was lacking in every sense of the word, things like battle were ingrained into his senses.

Besides, Sothis was the goddess. She invented swordsmanship. Magic. Tactics. She could follow along.

And although Byleth had a plan, Sothis had every intention of ignoring it in favour of lopping Edelgard's head off of her shoulders. Hubert as well. A thorn in their side.

"I have a plan," Sothis says, and cannot help her smirk. 

Dimitri blinks, then matches her expression with a sunny grin of his own. "I'm looking forward to it," Dimitri declares, a determined expression forming on his face.

She doubts that he is sharing her thoughts, but she appreciates Dimitri's enthusiasm. Sothis still wonders if he is part puppy.

They reach the steps leading up to the dining hall. 

"Be careful, professor. It's-"

"Slippery?" Sothis finishes. She shrugs. It's an odd feeling.

Not only was Byleth taller than her, it had been a very, very long time since Sothis had a body. The sensations of rain and of fresh air and of everything else were new to her.

Oddly, she missed the comfortable cloak her hair seemed to make. And her clothes. Armor was so unbelievably stuffy, Sothis could feel her body warming up. She could grow his hair. Byleth would look nice with long hair, something that would reach his lower back. She could also change his clothes- Sothis just thought that it was hilarious if she were to see him in an outfit similar to her own. 

Privately, Sothis thinks that Dimitri might keel over lest he saw Byleth in such a revealing outfit. Perhaps that was why she should wear such an outfit, on behalf of her plans-

The smell of- of- of _something_ hits her as they walk into the dining hall. She whirls on Dimitri, then realizes who she is trying to be.

"What- Dimitri. What is that smell, Dimitri?" Sothis asks. 

Bless his bleeding heart, Dimitri hardly blinks. "I believe that the dining hall staff are making a special breakfast for us. Wishing us good luck in battle before we depart."

That didn't answer her question. "But what is it?"

Seriously contemplating it, Dimitri puts a hand to his chin. "Why don't we ask Dedue and Ashe? They're at the table already."

As if on cue, Ashe raises his hand. He, and the rest of the Blue Lions, are sitting at the table. They all turn when Ashe waves. "Professor! Come here! The dining hall made something amazing!"

Sothis feels a burst of affection for this boy, and the rest of the Blue Lions. Although they did not know she was there, she too, like Byleth, had been watching over them and their growth. She cared for them, not only because they did the same for Byleth, but because she was also there when they smiled at him. There for every moment, every action, every single bit of achievement, she was there too.

Sothis cannot help the swell of affection for Blue Lions.

"We've been waiting for you to eat!" Ferdinand calls. 

Felix snorts. "I can hear Ingrid's stomach rumbling from here."

"H-hey!"

Eagerly Sothis takes a seat next to Ingrid and Sylvain. Dimitri sits between Annette and Dedue when she pats the spot next to her. 

Pointing at the fluffy things in the middle of the table, Sothis tries not to drool. There are also eggs, bacon, and several golden, buttery rolls. Cups of water line the table. "What is that?"

"I was watching them make this," Dedue says. "Flour, milk, eggs. Then, they poured it in a hot pan with butter, and put it into the oven, and it just puffed up. I am not sure that there is a name for it."

Lysithea has a hand to her cheek, eyes filled with stars. "They put so much powdered sugar on it, too!"

There's about three pans of these... Fluffy pancakes, and Sothis sets straight to devouring the closest one to her. She can vaguely hear the others yell in protest, but they eagerly dive in. 

Wow. It's so soft. Almost like custard. It's been so, so long since Sothis had eaten anything. It was not as if she had to eat, after all. Oh! Byleth liked food. She was not sure if he's ever tried this.

_Byleth, Byleth-_

Ah.

Sothis did not to wake him. 

Briefly, she brushes slightly against his thoughts. Fast asleep. Dreaming. Phew.

She barrels on through the food.

"Wow, professor," Caspar comments, mouth full. Bits of mashed up food are flying from his mouth. "You're really hungry, aren't you?"

Sothis shrugs. She did need to feed Byleth's body, after all. Hunger was a strange concept to her.

The door to the dining hall slams open to reveal Alois and Byleth's father walking inside, trailed by Jeralt's mercenaries. They're chatting contentedly until Jeralt catches Sothis' eyes.

Byleth's father waves, so Sothis waves back.

Instantly, Jeralt's face scrunched up, expression turning dark. Sothis blinks. What the hell. Did Sothis give away that she was currently using Byleth's body? No way.

"What the hell," Jeralt says, copying her. "Byleth, with me." As quickly as he came, Jeralt leaves the dining hall.

Sothis stands from the table, nods to the Lions, who look oddly nervous for Byleth. "Good luck," Mercedes whispers.

She doesn't know what she needs luck for. Sothis was not afraid of Jeralt.

When she joins him outside, Jeralt first closes the doors, and then raises an eyebrow at her. "What happened to Byleth?" He hisses.

Well then. "Father?" Sothis attempts.

Jeralt rolls his eyes, looking even more cross than before. "Cut the crap, Sothis. I know it's you."

Immediately, Sothis straightens, tilting her chin up arrogantly. "I was perfect. How did you guess it was not Byleth?"

"Well, first of all, Byleth does not wave at anyone," Jeralt tells her. Sothis frowns. "Second of all, although Byleth is ambidextrous, he prefers his left hand over his right."

"And I waved with my right." Sothis adds. 

Byleth's father nods. "Correct. Finally, I am the master of blank faces. My wife had one. My son has one. As much as you can try to go expressionless, Byleth has it down pat."

Groaning, Sothis puts a hand to her forehead. "Okay. Fine. Yes, I am Sothis."

"Great," Jeralt says, and then grins, far too wide to be natural. "Now what the hell did you do with Byleth."

"Don't try that tone with me, young man," Sothis snarls, and ignores the way Jeralt repeats her words incredulously. "I would never, ever hurt Byleth. But he has been overworking himself, and he was training until he passed out last night."

"_Passed out-_"

"I'm not done," Sothis cuts him off, then waits until Byleth's father is completely silent, tapping her foot as she waits. "You done? Good. He's just sleeping now. Don't worry, I checked. Trust me."

Jeralt studies her for a moment. Sothis refuses to back down from his stare. "...You're sure?"

"Positive. I wouldn't want to wake him for such a trivial battle." Sothis says.

Again, with the intense stare. Sothis wonders if Byleth inherited such a stare from his father, or his mother.

"You're planning on doing something during the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, aren't you." Jeralt states blankly. "What?"

It's Sothis' turn to stare. "Don't be daft," Sothis tells him. "You already know what I want to do. I came to you for it."

Jeralt crosses his arms against his chest. "And you're using _Byleth_ to do it?! He will suffer the consequences of-"

Sothis laughs. "Aren't we going to Dagda, or Almyra if we end up following my plans?"

"You-"

"I'm kidding," Sothis says, her smile jagged enough to pierce glass. "I have a plan."

For a moment, all is quiet save for the rain, which is gradually growing stronger. 

"I promise I would never do anything to harm Byleth," Sothis swears. "You may not trust me, but trust me about this."

Jeralt runs hand over his face.

Sothis puts her hand on her hips, sending a glare his way. "You know this has to be done."

"I know," Jeralt says. "As much as I don't want to admit it to his face, I can't see another way to stop what happens. Judging from what Byleth said, talking is just useless. You know, I can do it-"

Her face warps. "Absolutely not."

"Why?" Jeralt demands. "I wouldn't want Byleth to face the consequences, and there definitely _will_ be consequences for..."__

_ _

_ _Sothis misses her long hair. She wants to flip it over one shoulder. Instead, she settles for twirling a strand of hair around one finger. "You think Byleth would want to make you shoulder this burden?"_ _

_ _

_ _Jeralt's mouth falls open, incredulous. "Do you think I want my _son_ to shoulder this burden?! That sort of knowledge must be unbearable! I can at least kill-"_ _

_ _

_ _He stops, scowling at the ground._ _

_ _

_ _Biting down on her lip, Sothis shuts her eyes. "Let me handle it," Sothis insists._ _

_ _

_ _A pause._ _

_ _

_ _"Fine," Jeralt says, visibly trying to relax. "For now."_ _

_ _

_ _"For now," Sothis agrees._ _

_ _

_ _Sothis did like Jeralt, after all. It must have been difficult for him to raise and protect someone like Byleth, who did not cry and did not laugh. Searching through Byleth's memories only revealed a father who would tirelessly care for his child, mercenary or not. And Byleth, although he did not seem to show any of this on his face, appreciated this and listened to him- even following his father around like a little duck and clinging to his leg when he was younger._ _

_ _

_ _Such an adorable thought. Sothis knew that they both cared for each other deeply._ _

_ _

_ _But Sothis could not leave this plan to Jeralt. Edelgard was something that Sothis wanted to take care of._ _

_ _

_ _If Byleth couldn't find an opening, she would. If Byleth wouldn't strike her down immediately, Sothis would take up the sword and strike Edelgard down._ _

_ _

_ _After all, this was what she owed Fódlan._ _

_ _

_ _._ _

_ _

_ _When Sothis returns, Claude is sitting in her seat. He raises a hand in greeting, and Sothis just stares._ _

_ _

_ _"Come sit, teach!" Claude calls cheerily, completely ignoring the sharp looks the Lions were sending his way. Patting the seat next to him, Claude continues to make beckoning gesture._ _

_ _

_ _For a moment, Sothis stares blankly at him. She vaguely remembers Byleth offhandedly mentioning this and agreeing to becoming friends with Claude- but vaguely._ _

_ _

_ _Claude was far too suspicious for her liking, but he was someone powerful. So being friends with him probably wasn't such a terrible idea... Maybe. Sothis still did not trust him nor his intentions for getting near Byleth._ _

_ _

_ _Sothis walks over calmly. "Claude, that is my seat," she says quietly, standing behind him closely._ _

_ _

_ _He grins up at her mischievously. "I know, that's why I am here. Aren't we friends now?"_ _

_ _

_ _It takes every bit of herself not to give him a disapproving look._ _

_ _

_ _"Because we're friends now," Claude continues, batting his eyes sweetly at Dimitri, "we should hang out all the time. Isn't that right?"_ _

_ _

_ _Claude leans his head back and grabs one of Byleth's hands, folding their fingers together. Annette sucks in a breath, and whips her head around to stare at the prince._ _

_ _

_ _When Sothis looks at Dimitri, he's turning a splotchy red. All of the Blue Lions are staring, now. Perhaps Dimitri was simply jealous, or embarrassed at the sight of them._ _

_ _

_ _Hmm. How would Byleth react? _ _

_ _

_ _To be completely honest, Sothis wanted to rip her hand from his grip and demand why he was touching her, but..._ _

_ _

_ _Sothis reaches out the other hand to pat Claude on the head, squeezing his hand. All while keeping Byleth's face blank._ _

_ _

_ _"I suppose so," Sothis agrees._ _

_ _

_ _The look on Dimitri's face is completely indescribable. _ _

_ _

_ _Not to mention Claude. For the first time, Sothis has seen this boy slightly shaken, perhaps out of his element. Surprised that she would reciprocate, or go along with his jokes._ _

_ _

_ _The moment ends and Claude smirks at Dimitri. "Friends," he repeats again._ _

_ _

_ _Finally, Dimitri looks ready to speak. "Claude-"_ _

_ _

_ _"Are you all discussing strategy without me?"_ _

_ _

_ _Sothis looks up to see Edelgard and Hubert walking towards them, Hubert looking as brooding as ever, and Edelgard with a small smile on her face._ _

_ _

_ _Sothis kind of wanted to drop a meteor on their heads._ _

_ _

_ _"You all are cozy," Edelgard says, smiling at them with a tiny grin. She nods at Sothis, and it takes everything in her to not stick out her tongue in her direction. "I'm almost jealous."_ _

_ _

_ _"It's cause teach and I are friends now," Claude declares. "The best of friends."_ _

_ _

_ _Sothis did not agree to that._ _

_ _

_ _"Oh?" Edelgard prompts._ _

_ _

_ _"Yeah, we bonded," Claude says, voice teasing. "We would do anything for each other. Teach, let's make friendship bracelets for each other."_ _

_ _

_ _Sothis has absolutely no idea what to say, so she says nothing._ _

_ _

_ _"He said yes."_ _

_ _

_ _She absolutely did not._ _

_ _

_ _"What sort of friendship bracelet would you wear, teach?" Absolutely none at all, thank you very much. "Maybe something to match that ring you always wear... Silver?"_ _

_ _

_ _Sothis tilts her head to one side. It wasn't as if Byleth's ring was a secret, but they didn't exactly talk to Claude all that much. He could have noticed at any time, that was true, but Sothis hardly thought that such a detail was worthy of memory._ _

_ _

_ _Wanting this conversation to be over, Sothis frees her hands and allows them to fall to her sides._ _

_ _

_ _The moment ends as Hubert leans over to whisper in Edelgard's ear. Sothis' eyes narrow. _ _

_ _

_ _When Edelgard dips her head slightly, Hubert turns to look at the former Black Eagles. "Linhardt. Caspar. Ferdinand. Will you be rejoining the Black Eagles for today?"_ _

_ _

_ _Absolutely not. _ _

_ _

_ _Dimitri looks as if he is about to protest, but the former Eagles are already dismissing the topic._ _

_ _

_ _"No," Linhardt says simply, his head nodding off onto Felix's shoulder. _ _

_ _

_ _"Nah, I think the professor is fun!" Caspar claims! "I wanna fight by his side!"_ _

_ _

_ _Hubert nods at them in an ominous manner. "And you, Aegir? Will you betray us today? ...Only joking."_ _

_ _

_ _"That is a bit rude, Hubert. I do not know what you are speaking of," Ferdinand says simply. "I am a Lion now."_ _

_ _

_ _"You are far too rash," Hubert offers. "Does your father know what you are doing?"_ _

_ _

_ _Ferdinand hardly twitches. "My father is fine with whatever I do, as long as I excel in the matters I associate myself with."_ _

_ _

_ _Sothis tilts her head to one side. Well now. This boy was likely more impressive than she imagined. He had a spine._ _

_ _

_ _"Ridiculous."_ _

_ _

_ _"That is quite harsh, Hubert," Ferdinand says. "I simply realized that I wanted to follow professor Byleth. There is no need to analyze it."_ _

_ _

_ _"Do you think the professor leads better than my lady?" Hubert demands, voice cool._ _

_ _

_ _Ferdinand just stares. "That is exactly what I was thinking."_ _

_ _

_ _Before the moment can drag on any longer, Claude claps his hands together to get their attention. "Well," he interrupt. "I'm loving the tension here, but can't we save it for the battle, everyone?"_ _

_ _

_ _"He's right," Dimitri is quick to agree. "Let's not fight now."_ _

_ _

_ _Edelgard flips her hair over one shoulder. "That's right. Save it for battle. Hubert, we should head back to our table."_ _

_ _

_ _"Of course, Lady Edelgard."_ _

_ _

_ _They practically glide back to their seats. As soon as they're out of hearing range, Ferdinand whirls on Sothis. "You were right, professor! They are already regretting allowing me- no, us, out of their class!"_ _

_ _

_ _Well, at the very least one of them was content with the interaction._ _

_ _

_ _._ _

_ _

_ _Sothis stared at herself in the mirror. Or rather, she stared at Byleth._ _

_ _

_ _Pale green hair. A sharp face. Dark eyes. Slim, but still had muscles. Slightly tall._ _

_ _

_ _It was odd seeing Byleth like this, as if staring at herself rather than in his head. Sothis was glad that he grew up so well. _ _

_ _

_ _Although she had no real desire for his body, she just wanted to confirm- and yes. She did not care for using his body as her own._ _

_ _

_ _Not only would that be ridding Byleth of a body of his own, but it would be highly immoral to do so. Besides, if Sothis did take his body, Byleth would likely die. She would do anything in her power to keep that from happening._ _

_ _

_ _From what she read in Jeralt's journal, Sothis could discern a few things. One, that Byleth's mother was crafted by Seiros'- no, Rhea's hand. Two, Byleth was stillborn until Rhea inserted Sothis' heart inside of Byleth's dead body. _ _

_ _

_ _And the last thing that she understood was that Byleth did not recall that she remembered everything when they merged in his past life. Like how Rhea was actually Seiros. Like how Cornelia and her lot were actually likely still the remaining Agarthans. _ _

_ _

_ _Like how the Sword of the Creator was actually created from her original body. _ _

_ _

_ _Picking up the sword now, Sothis feels nothing. She would have expected to feel _something_ about holding it for herself, but she supposes that Byleth wielding it for so long took the original shock away._ _

_ _

_ _Tracing the empty hole in the hilt of Byleth's sword, Sothis is absolutely aware that her heart- or what remained of it, would fit perfectly inside._ _

_ _

_ _She had no interest in restoring the sword. Besides, that would require Byleth to..._ _

_ _

_ _Never mind. One thing at a time. Edelgard, then Sothis would gently remind Byleth that she remembered, and then they would do something about the Agarthans. _ _

_ _

_ _And then perhaps she would talk to Seiros. _ _

_ _

_ _Sothis hums at her reflection in the mirror. She was curious about something._ _

_ _

_ _Snapping her fingers, Byleth's hair grows, falling to knee length. She twists and twirls in front of the mirror, noting with a self-satisfied smile that yes, Byleth did look nice with longer hair. Perhaps she could convince him to grow it out, or perhaps to put a braid in it, with white and pink ribbons. _ _

_ _

_ _Another snap of her fingers, and Byleth is wearing an outfit similar to her own- a purple robe embroidered with gold. The cut of of the dress shows off most of his legs. One white ribbon is tied around his right hand, and one pink ribbon is tied around his left. His sandals match the embroidery, gold with intricate designs. She snaps her fingers again, and the black undershirt disappears, showing off his chest. Did Byleth look more or less attractive with the shirt or without? He was always wearing black. Sothis wanted to dress him in different colours, although she too did enjoy black, and darker colours._ _

_ _

_ _A knock on the door makes her jump. One wave of her hand, and the outfit, as well as the length of his hair disappears. "What is it?" Byleth calls._ _

_ _

_ _"Professor." It's Dedue. "We are leaving now."_ _

_ _

_ _"One moment, please!" Sword of the Creator, at her hip. Airgetlam, in her cloak. A convoy full of weapons, at the ready. An axe in the Holy Tomb, just waiting for Sothis to reach in and rip it out._ _

_ _

_ _Sothis raises her hand, and sparks fall from her fingertips and fizzle, jumping to the ground and spreading, leaving little bits of light in their wake._ _

_ _

_ _It has been a long time since she has fought in a battle. Drawing the Sword of the Creator, she whips it around for a couple of moments and almost leaves indents in the walls and floor. Sothis practices a few of her forms, and giggles to herself when she realizes that she still has her skills._ _

_ _

_ _Attaching it to her hip, Sothis joins Dedue outside her room, trying not to grin._ _

_ _

_ _._ _

_ _

_ _"This fog is... kind of dangerous," Ashe says, eyes flashing. "I can hardly see my hand through it!"_ _

_ _

_ _Sothis and the rest of the Blue Lions, alongside the students and staff, have been walking through a drizzling rain and a fog that only got gradually thicker as they walked. If one walked away even slightly, they would be hard to see. _ _

_ _

_ _Of course, Sothis was not bothered by this. She was the one who intensified the rain and the fog, after all._ _

_ _

_ _Mercedes puts her hands on her hips. "Well, if Lady Rhea says it's fine, it'll be fine. I doubt she would let us fight if she thought we would be hurt like this."_ _

_ _

_ _"But look, Mercie," Annette says, casting a wind spell and flinging it away from them. All of the Blue Lions watch as the cut of wind cuts through fog- and then disappears entirely a second later. "We can hardly see our own attacks!"_ _

_ _

_ _"Hopefully Rhea will give us the order to do this another day," Ingrid says. "It would be horrible if someone should become accidentally hurt like this."_ _

_ _

_ _Oh, that was what Sothis was counting on._ _

_ _

_ _"Just in case, we should discuss strategy," Dimitri declares, and waits for everyone to nod and agree. "Perhaps Lady Rhea is just waiting for the fog to clear. Are you confident, professor?"_ _

_ _

_ _"Very," Sothis replies, nodding. The students smile at her widely._ _

_ _

_ _"Excellent. That's reassuring!" Dimitri replies, bright. "We can win. I'm sure of it. After all it's not as though we've spent the last half-year sitting idle. And I'm feeling stronger this moon. As though I could conquer a thousand opponents all on my own."_ _

_ _

_ _Sothis nods at him. "That's reassuring." At this, Dimitri smiles even wider, practically sparkling, even in the fog._ _

_ _

_ _His happiness must be infectious, for all of the Blue Lions are gazing at him and grinning. "You can depend on me. I hope you know that. Brace yourselves, everyone. Even if the fog clears a bit, do not lose sight of the goal!"_ _

_ _

_ _Felix grunts. "Hmph. All I'm worried about is finding someone worthy to cross swords with."_ _

_ _

_ _Giggling, Mercedes pats him on the back. "We've prepared and trained a great deal. We should be fine, right?"_ _

_ _

_ _"You're always so carefree, Mercie!" Annette says, smiling. "Don't forget we need to to try our hardest out there so we can win!"_ _

_ _

_ _The two girls share a grin. Ashe nods along, determined._ _

_ _

_ _"This is our chance to show how hard we've been working. Let's do our best!" Ashe declares, eyes bright._ _

_ _

_ _Sylvain nods at Sothis, winking. "If I emerge victorious in the lauded Battle of the Eagle and Lion, the ladies are sure to take notice. I'll have to go into hiding."_ _

_ _

_ _Sothis nearly gives herself away by making face at that. She isn't the only one bothered by his statement, either. Ingrid is scowling at him._ _

_ _

_ _"Ugh, is that all you think about?" Ingrid frowns. "Actually, as long as you try your hardest, frame it however you like."_ _

_ _

_ _Flayn also seems to be affected by the jovial mood. "Haha, I shall give it my all!"_ _

_ _

_ _"No matter, the battle, I will never falter." Dedue promises._ _

_ _

_ _Even Linhardt looks more awake. Or perhaps that is because Ferdinand is shaking him by the shoulders. _ _

_ _

_ _"I can't wait to try and land a punch on Hubert!" Caspar says happily. Sothis blinks at him. _ _

_ _

_ _"Professor," Lysithea demands, "can I go over and knock Claude off of his high horse?"_ _

_ _

_ _Sothis only blinks._ _

_ _

_ _With a slight smile, Dimitri nods at her again. "We're counting on you, professor. Let's show the world what the Blue Lions are made of!"_ _

_ _

_ _Nodding back, Sothis observes the fog. "I will go check with Rhea when we can start," she lies, and walks off, making sure she cannot see them or they her before she heads off into Edelgard's direction._ _

_ _

_ _"Be careful!" The Lions call at her back._ _

_ _

_ _Of course, Sothis had no intention of checking in with Rhea, or to clear this fog. _ _

_ _

_ _Judging from Byleth's memory... To her left were the Golden Deer, and to her right where the Black Eagles. She had to make sure that she didn't accidentally hurt the innocent ones._ _

_ _

_ _Petra, who was likely just a political prisoner. Dorothea, who had no real place in a war. Bernadetta, who was sent to be eventually shrouded in flames by Edelgard herself._ _

_ _

_ _Hubert was probably Edelgard's hands and feet. He likely took on the dirtier work so as to make Edelgard believe that her hands were even the slightest bit cleaner than they actually were. Sothis searches through Byleth's memories. He likely was the one warping them everywhere, since she was sure that Edelgard did not know how to pull off such a spell._ _

_ _

_ _Her confidante._ _

_ _

_ _Sothis had to make sure that she killed him too. Better to kill him alongside Edelgard now rather than later._ _

_ _

_ _And Edelgard..._ _

_ _

_ _ __I wish you were someone whose heart could be swayed by my words and deeds._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _All obstacles will be crushed... without question._ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _It is true that I was working with Solon._ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _If anyone attempts to stop us... Kill them._ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _If after all of this you believe the weak will still be weak, that is only because they are too used to relying on others instead of on themselves._ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _But this is the way that leads to the fewest casualties in the end. Don't you see?_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _I weighed the victims of war against the victims of the world as it as now, and I chose the former.__ _

_ _

_ _Sothis could not be more appalled. _ _

_ _

_ _Edelgard's delusion was revolting. How _dare she_ decide for millions of people whether or not they live or die. How _dare she_ claim to know their minds, when she herself was a walking contradiction that hardly knew herself. _ _

_ _

_ _She said she wanted to save the world on behalf of the weak people, and yet killed them herself in her war. She said such things like 'the goddess will not answer,' in order to justify her own beliefs. Edelgard was so disgusted by the injustices placed upon her person that she had to take it out upon the entirety of Fódlan._ _

_ _

_ _She robbed a tomb. She was partly responsible for every single student experimented on at the academy. Not only that, she invaded the academy, which risked the lives of many innocent students. She subjugated the Alliance and the Kingdom, likely hell bent on erasing every single memory about them, their people, and their culture._ _

_ _

_ _Edelgard stood by as Byleth's father was killed._ _

_ _

_ _She smiled as she made jokes about the Empire going to war with the Kingdom before every mock battle._ _

_ _

_ _People were stronger than she believed. The people of Fódlan had their own thoughts, cultures, religions, beliefs, and homes- _ _

_ _

_ _And Edelgard wanted to take that away. All for the sake of her lofty ideals. Sothis could not see a better way to bring her back down to earth other than to crush her there. Clip her wings. _ _

_ _

_ _Edelgard could raze the land and take the earth for her own and yet she would not ever own the hearts of the people._ _

_ _

_ _Oh._ _

_ _

_ _And there she was._ _

_ _

_ _Edelgard, standing on a heal tile, Hubert just in front of her. The rest of the Black Eagles circling her._ _

_ _

_ _Sothis could see them through the fog, clear as day, unlike the students. She created the fog, after all, and was sure of its quality._ _

_ _

_ _There was no time to waste. Smiling, Sothis brings one hand up to the sky, and just as quickly does lightning touch down to the earth._ _

_ _

_ _The crashing boom of the lightning bolt shakes the ground and knocks Edelgard off of her place. Frantically, the Eagles cover their ears and scatter, while Hubert immediately runs to Edelgard's side._ _

_ _

_ _Distantly, Sothis can hear them yelling._ _

_ _

_ _Her fingers ripple with the crackle of power. She points at the two, and thunder touches down from the sky again. _ _

_ _

_ _Sothis is not even shaken by the flash of light, nor the absent ringing in her ears. She could heal those later. Besides, Byleth's body could handle it._ _

_ _

_ _Their ears must be ringing too, for Hubert nearly loses his balance and sways a few times, back turned to Sothis. Edelgard is struggling to stand. They're both wobbly, desperate to regain balance._ _

_ _

_ _Byleth never uses axes, so Sothis sticks her hand out, and from the void Holy Tomb, the axe drops into her hand. She doesn't have time to admire the sharp gleam of the weapon, nor the feel of it in her hand. She would never dare use the Sword of the Creator on someone so unworthy. Besides, people might think it was Byleth if Sothis used it._ _

_ _

_ _Hubert has one hand lifted to allow themselves the slightest bit of light, the deep glow of purple radiating against his skin._ _

_ _

_ _Sothis is not Byleth._ _

_ _

_ _Sothis will never give her enemies a chance, will never reach her hand out to them. She can never afford to. Especially with what happened last time._ _

_ _

_ _Almost serenely, Sothis simply walks over, takes her axe, and swings._ _

_ _

_ _Hubert's hand falls to the ground. _ _

_ _

_ _Absentmindedly, Sothis can hear Hubert screaming. She wraps one hand around the hilt of Airgetlam in order to slide it into Hubert's back, and of course, that is when Byleth wakes up._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well i hate to repeat DUN DUN DUN again but DUN DUN DUN. please, if you are new here, or just need another reminder, please go look at the notes that have been here the entire fic lol. thank you.
> 
> PLOT TIME AGAIN
> 
> sothis is very, very different from byleth, and very rash and straightforward. so it was fun to write lol. but i missed byleth this chapter aaaaaa don't worry he's back next time. he's just napping, just chillin.
> 
> thank you so much for reading! ♡ sorry if this end note is a lil shorter, i have to go out real soon! thank you! ♡
> 
> byleth/dimitri B rank  
byleth/dedue C+ rank  
byleth/felix B rank  
byleth/annette C+ rank  
byleth/ingrid C+ rank  
byleth/sylvain B rank  
byleth/mercedes C+ rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt C+ rank  
byleth/ferdinand C rank  
byleth/lysithea C rank  
byleth/cyril C rank  
byleth/flayn C+ rank  
byleth/caspar C rank
> 
> byleth/jeritza C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/claude C rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea C+ rank


	24. shepherd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello and holy shit my dudes. maybe i should leave it on cliffhangers more. i swear to god that was the most comments ive ever had on one chapter... like ever shahhshshs im very happy that you liked it! or didn't! but i hope that you received some sort of enjoyment out of that lol. sothis is so so so fun to write lol. but of course byleth is my fave to write! and here he is YEAHHHHHH thank you for reading ♡

For the first time in a very, very long time, Byleth does not immediately meet Dima in his dreams.

He opens his eyes in an unfamiliar place, and immediately realizes that he is asleep. There is a humongous lion dozing off at his side, who opens one eye once he realizes that Byleth is awake. Carefully, they lick Byleth's face with a large pink tongue. What an odd sensation. Byleth has no particular aversion to cats, let alone lions, so he basks in the attention of the animal, reaching up one hand to pet the lion's mane. They make a noise as if in agreement.

For some odd reason, the lion seems familiar. Although Byleth would surely remember if he's encountered one in his life before.

Byleth is instantly reminded of the cats that would prowl the academy and meow at his feet for food. They obviously recognized him as the one who constantly fished and gave them his earnings, so they would purr incessantly at the sight of him.

He raises one hand to his face and realizes that it is covered in something dark enough to reflect his expression.

If he stares long enough, he can see something within.

_"I'll kill them," Byleth murmurs, still staring up at the sky. It had turned from a hazy, foggy blue to pitch black, dotted with perfect little stars. The moon was covered with clouds. He finally turns to look at Jeralt._

_His father is staring at him, eyes wide. As if they'd swallowed the moon the sky was hiding from them. "What...?"_

_They have no such gaze for the body cast aside._

_Byleth turns his visage back up to face the sky. "They wanted to hurt you. So I killed them."_

_"Byleth, you..."_

_"You do this all the time. It's fine."_

_Bland, monotone. The only hint of emotion left to wallow in the air around them is the choked gasp his father makes._

_Jeralt gathers Byleth up in his arms. His chest is heaving. Byleth wonders at the fact that his father's form could swallow the skyline while. He is tiny against him. _

_"Forgive me," Jeralt chokes out, arms squeezing tightly around him. He buries his face into the side of Byleth's head. "Forgive me."_

_Byleth does not know what to say, so he says nothing._

_The darkness drips down from the sky and shrouds Byleth within its grasp._

An old memory.

And Byleth is still asleep. He pinches his cheek. And then his hand. And then his cheek once more.

Why wasn't he awake?

The lion licks his face as if in apology. Byleth wonders if any creature was allowed to be this cute. He had a grand respect for creatures such as lions, and bears, and dragons- so very cute, and so very dangerous. Maybe Byleth was the only one that thought of those creatures as adorable, but he could not help himself. 

"Hey!"

Byleth immediately stands from the pitch black puddle and puts his fists up. The lion is snarling and snapping at the sound. 

A girl steps through the darkness.

Immediately Byleth lowers his fists. "Sothis?" 

When she doesn't answer to the name, Byleth raises his clenched fists again. 

After closer observation, Byleth realizes that the girl was not Sothis. They had similar hair colours, and wore intricate styles of dress, but they were not the same. For one, Sothis' hair was not that smooth, and she did not smile that easily. The girl's hands stayed folded behind her back. 

Byleth narrows his eyes.

"I would appreciate if you didn't try and punch me," the girl says. "And if you stopped that- that animal from growling at me."

"They are a lion," Byleth replies. "Not some animal."

Obediently, the girl nods. "Mommy said I must care for all creatures and animals. Forgive me for being so very impolite." The girl dips her head and picks up her skirt in order to curtsey at the lion.

Byleth blinks at her sudden formal speech. He's never heard a child sound like that before. Byleth was not good with children. The kids from Remire would run around and tug at his hair and ask to use his sword, and then dart away as quickly as they came whenever Byleth looked at them. Perhaps it was just his face. Many a time has he heard whispers about him being an actual demon, expressionless and cutting down enemies with barely a second glance. Perhaps it was true. 

At least the students at the academy were teenagers. If Rhea had put him in charge of toddlers and babies, Byleth might have already left the monastery in the dead of night.

"Who are you?" Byleth demands, tone not raising.

He doesn't know how to talk to children, either.

"Me?!" The girl demands, eyes wide as if she could not believe Byleth's audacity. "Me? Who are you? Why are you here? How rude! Showing up somewhere uninvited!"

She steps closer to Byleth, and the lion rushes in front out of him, as if to protect him. They let out a roar that Byleth can feel shaking his entire body.

Byleth shushes the lion, gentle and slow, and urges them back to his side. They growl once more at the girl, before huffing and standing alert at Byleth's side.

Unphased, the child only stares at Byleth, narrowing her eyes. "Actually, now that I look at you closer... You're one of us, are you not? Forgive me. I should not have yelled at you, regardless of who you are or what you are. I've forgotten myself. Mommy says-"

Byleth raises a brow. "Who is your- uh, mother?"

"Mommy?" She says, sounding confused. "You know mommy. Everyone knows mommy. Creatures big and small know mommy! And you definitely know mommy too."

Smiling, she walks right up to Byleth and gazes up at him through long, green lashes.

"You do have mother's heart, after all. Don't you?"

When Byleth blinks, the girl has grown. It's hard to focus on the minuscule details about her, however, when her hand has stabbed through his chest.

Byleth sinks to the ground. 

The lion leaps at the woman, but they are swiftly beaten with one raised hand and they crumple to the floor. Byleth's lips part to call out, but it's as if the woman is deaf to his cries.

"Mother," she gasps, and now both hands are inserted in his chest, a wide, open cavity pooling with blood and darkness. It spills onto the floor and onto her hands. "Mother," she repeats. 

Byleth frantically tries to pull her hands away with one weakened hand, but he feels too weak to grip around her arms. He kicks at her, but she doesn't move or flinch.

He can feel every movement of her hands within him, and hear every sound, the ugly, cacophonous noise of her hands and his insides meeting. Byleth whimpers in pain. Excruciating, nauseous agony, rendering Byleth momentarily blind with the white lights flashing behind his eyes. He writhes in pain, unable to even scream.

Finally, the woman seems to let out an absent, happy sigh. "I found you, mother."

She rips something free from his chest, and finally Byleth is able to scream. Wings seem to spread from her back, as Byleth watches, dazed. He wonders if he is hallucinating within a dream.

"Poor mother... Do not fret, mother. If no one helps a goddess, I will..."

Absentmindedly, Byleth thinks of a dragon protecting their hoard before he finally succumbs to pain.

.

_Sothis._

"Yes?"

_I had a weird dream._

Even without looking at her face, Byleth is absolutely aware that she is rolling her eyes up to the high heavens. "Was your Dima licking black ooze from your sword again?"

Byleth, even without his body, can feel a rising blush spread throughout him. _Stop. Do you wish to know my dreams or not?_

There is the sound... of something. Like a blade meeting flesh. Dull yells. White, still flickering behind his closed eyes. Byleth wonders if the dream was still affecting him.

"I do," Sothis says, oddly tense. She wasn't speaking aloud. Byleth could feel the ripples of her words wash over his head. Why? Was it nighttime? Was she on patrol, and desperately trying to keep quiet?

_Someone ripped something out of my chest,_ Byleth tells her distantly. His head his still swimming. He can't see properly, still sleep-addled and drowsy. _I do believe it was my heart. There was a lion, and I saw myself as a child..._

"You're not making sense, Byleth." Sothis scolds him. She doesn't seem like she's paying much attention to him. 

Blinking the sleep from his eyes, Byleth tries to regain his focus. It felt as if his ears were pulsing, vibrating out of his head, despite the fact that he wasn't in control of his body. 

Byleth thinks about thick, gleaming wings sprouting from the darkness. _Can I grow wings?_

Sothis snorts. "Is this about your wanting to become a dragon? Because I do believe that I told you that you weren't able to."

_Unfortunate. Perhaps I'm not training en-_

Byleth finally focuses on the scene in front of him.

_Sothis?_

"Yes?"

_What the **hell** is going on here?!_

Sothis glances down at Hubert, writhing on the grass, bleeding out, and Edelgard trapped beneath his limp body, weakly trying to push him off. Hubert's hand lying on the floor, a few feet away.

Airgetlam, bloody in one hand. An axe in the other.

Byleth can practically see the scene before him. Sothis, removing Hubert's hand with the axe, and stabbing him in the back with the dagger.

Sothis stares at him. "You certainly took your time waking up." She gestures to the two dazed people at their feet. "Don't worry, Byleth. I can take care of this. There's no need to bloody your hands with their ilk."

He freezes.

Frantically, Byleth uses a Divine Pulse, but some sort of force stops him in place. 

"Byleth," Sothis says. "Don't try and stop me. You know that I'm more powerful than you. Sorry, I cannot allow you to use a pulse."

_Sothis-_

As if immune to his cry, Sothis raises the axe above her head. Silent.

_Sothis-!_

"This way!" Byleth hears someone scream. "I think El was struck by that lightning!"

Dorothea's voice rises through the fog. 

Byleth doesn't need to read minds to realize that Sothis is swearing and cursing her heart out. Unwavering, Byleth reaches for Sothis' power and-

They're warped across the field, Byleth back in his body. He drops the weapons- _somewhere_, he doesn't know where but it falls into a void until he hears the clatter of metal hitting stone.

As soon as Sothis is not at the forefront of control, the fog starts to fade. But the storm rages on.

"**BYLETH!!!**"

_I'm sorry,_ Byleth thinks desperately. _Sothis, forgive me._

"They were right there! I could have killed them!"

_...I did not use a Divine Pulse. I just warped us over._

"You absolute-"

The sound of footsteps. "Professor!" 

Desperately, Byleth reaches down to use a Divine Pulse just in case there's any damming blood on him- but nothing happens. 

He tries again.

Nothing.

Again.

Nothing.

Again.

_Sothis._

"No," she snaps. "Absolutely not."

_Sothis-_

"Professor!" 

The Blue Lions jog up to him, looking frantic. "Professor," Dimitri repeats. "We've been looking everywhere for you! Where have you been?!"

_Sothis..._

"Looking for Rhea," she grumbles.

"Looking for Rhea," Byleth repeats. 

Sylvain chuckles. "Were you just running in the opposite direction or something? After a couple minutes, we grew worried and began to follow you."

"But we got there before you," Mercedes explains. "And Lady Rhea seemed... kind of worried too."

Annette raises her arms, as if to demonstrate her next words. "And then lightning struck down!" After a moment, Annette wilts. "And then it did again. And again."

"Caspar nearly ran in the other direction," Ashe says.

"HEY!"

"The point is..." Lysithea cuts in, a expression resembling a pout forms on her face. "The point is, Lady Rhea went absolutely white. And then, Dorothea was running towards us-"

The Blue Lions fall silent. 

"Someone got hurt," Dimitri explains, filling in the silence. "I think it might be one of the Black Eagles."

A yawn. "It doesn't matter who got hurt," Linhardt murmurs. "But who did it? Controlling lightning... and the fog... It must be a skilled mage. Someone with a vendetta, maybe?"

"We shouldn't make assumptions," Ingrid cuts in, tugging at her sleeves. 

"But it cannot be a coincidence. The fog, the lightning... and then someone was injured." Dedue cuts in. "We don't know the extent of the injuries yet."

"I-"

"You would think-"

"Honestly-"

Dimitri clears his throat loudly. "That is enough, everyone. We can discuss this when we return to the academy. And out of earshot. Professor, Lady Rhea ordered us to return to the academy. But I want to hear your opinion, first. Maybe the enemy is near. They cannot have gone far! Guide our blades, professor."

With wide, eager eyes, the Lions turn to him with expectant faces and determined nods of the head.

Byleth's face stays blank. 

.

Rumors flow quicker than water.

Byleth has always had an ear for rumors. Finding where his targets had gone. Who was paying the most, and for what. People to avoid, interested in who the Ashen Demon was.

"I heard that Hubert's hand was cut off because he doesn't believe in the goddess." One person murmurs.

"Really? I heard that lightning struck his hand clean off?" Another swears.

"That's not possible. The church has many enemies, and naysayers, you know? This could have been done to prove a point." Kind of close.

And Sothis is still grumbling at the back of his head. 

Not speaking to him, unless necessary.

Dimitri approaches him after class, leaning up against his desk. For some reason, Sylvain and Dedue are staying behind. Byleth understands Dedue, but why Sylvain?

Ignoring Sylvain's fervent whispers to Dedue and his frequent, odd hand motions, Byleth turns to Dimitri. "What is it, Dimitri?"

Cleaning his throat, the prince leans onto his desk with one hand. That hand slides onto a piece of parchment and in a show of a complete lack of grace, Dimitri slips forward and the paper is nearly knocked from the desk.

Sylvain has one hand over his face. Dedue has turned away.

Scrambling for control on the situation, Dimitri stands back up and awkwardly smiles at Byleth. "Please ignore that."

"Ignore what?"

Dimitri sighs a breath of relief. "Professor... Lady Rhea has decided that we are to do the Battle of the Eagle and Lion once more."

Byleth simply stares at him. Nodding, Dimitri sighs. "I cannot help but wonder if we are bait. Or if this is out of pure stubbornness. To be honest, I've never been able to get a read on Lady Rhea. And it is so soon, too..."

"...what about Hubert?"

Dimitri sighs, the sound inaudible. "Lady Cornelia is staying for awhile more to treat his wounds... and to figure out what sort of weapon was used to stab him in the back. It's... Honestly, Manuela looked at the wound and went so pale she nearly turned purple. Luckily, we got him back to the academy on time. Apparently, Lady Cornelia knows what kind of injury this is. But Manuela said that that sort of injury was lethal..."

"_Shit!_" Sothis curses. Byleth can relate, actually.

"And...? His hand?"

Dimitri doesn't speak for a moment. "Lady Rhea was able to reattach it. Apparently, if the limb is intact and you reattach it with a proper healer, you will be able to have your limb back. But who knew that Lady Rhea was capable of such a feat? I know that I was not. Besides, who has ever heard of reattaching body parts? Incredible."

"That's impossible." Byleth says, bluntly.

The prince's eyes almost seem to glow. "But I saw it, professor. He was missing his hand, and was in utter agony... And then the next I saw him, he had both hands."

"Huh," Sothis says, expression closing off.

Byleth stares at the papers on his desk. "But I doubt it will take a short time to recover. That side of his body... will be more vulnerable."

Picking up the papers on Byleth's desk, Dimitri swiftly rearranges them. "I am aware. Hubert is livid. Edelgard is closed off, more so than usual. I know the rumors, professor, but could it just be that someone has a vendetta against Hubert personally rather than the church itself?"

Dimitri was more correct than he knew.

"Can he move his hands? His fingers?"

"Yes, but here's the thing- he can't use magic in that hand anymore."

Sothis whistles, as Byleth tries not to widen his eyes. "How in the world does that work...?"

"I don't know the specifics, but..." Dimitri shakes his head. "Truthfully, he is able to conjure magic in that hand. However, it can only produce tiny flames or sparks for a few seconds before it dies out and Hubert is exhausted."

"Ah-hem-hem-hem!" Sylvain clears his throat loudly. Dimitri whips around to look at the boy, who is making even more confusing gestures.

Dimitri clears his throat too. "Forgive me. Such a grim topic. Shall we change the subject?"

Byleth nods slowly. The prince perks up. "Are you free tonight? We could continue to talk more over dinner. My treat."

"The dining hall gives out free food," Byleth says simply. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Sothis slap her forehead. 

Dimitri turns pink, and then red, and then purple, and then red again. "T-that's not what I meant! I mean, we could... go out... and get some food? Together?"

Byleth nods. "We can get some food from the dining hall and sit somewhere else, yeah."

Although Sothis is ignoring him, he can still hear her distantly groaning.

.

The Battle of the Eagle and Lion is the same as before. 

Skies clear, clouds white, loud trumpets announcing their presence. The Blue Lions, restless in their excitement. 

There are two things that _are_ different, however. Sothis, curled up in the back of Byleth's mind-

And Byleth.

When he closes his eyes, he can practically see five years into the future. 

Claude, to his left, atop a massive white wyvern. The Golden Deer, older now, Leonie inching closer and closer in an attempt to get the jump on them. The look in her eyes when she sees Byleth. Claude, falling from the sky when Dima strikes him down, but his wyvern saving him. 

The look in his eyes when he sees Dima.

Edelgard, to his right. Although she still has not grown much, her horns and her bright red garb are a bloody gash against the green fields. The Black Eagles, Hubert always right next to the Emperor's side. Even from far away, Byleth can practically sense their dark circles. Bernadetta, atop a hill, never shaking.

The look in her eyes when she sees Byleth.

"Hey, professor?"

Byleth turns to see Flayn, hands behind her back. "Are you feeling alright?"

Flayn almost resembles the girl from his dreams. "I'm fine," he says.

"Okaaaaay," Flayn replies, with the air of someone that doesn't believe him at all. "Was that you, the other day?"

"What?"

Flayn giggles, hand over her mouth. "Oh, you never need to play dumb with me, professor. Did you call the lightning?"

Sothis gives Byleth a look. 

"And what if I did?"

"Oh, professor," Flayn smiles. "You know that I am on your side, right? Even Lady Rhea has her suspicions!"

Byleth's eyes widen imperceptibly, and Flayn giggles some more. "I did not tell her, if that's what you thought. She isn't aware that it was you, but she is aware that _something_ happened."

Wringing her hands, Flayn suddenly looks more solemn. "I would do anything to prevent another war, professor. I do not want anyone else to lose their lives... That's why... I'll trust you for now, but... If anything happens, I will let my fa- brother know. Okay?"

Byleth stares. 

"I don't think that this is something you can face on your own," Flayn says, smiling again. She looks very proud of herself. "I would trip Hubert again, but he's still in bed. He causes a ruckus trying to get up today, you know?"

Flayn skips away.

Suddenly, Sothis is right there, in front of his face. "You should have let me finish the job," Sothis tells him. It's almost sad.

Quiet, Byleth looks away. _We can talk about this later, Sothis._

.

The Blue Lions win. 

When his father announces the winner, Byleth can feel Jeralt's pride in his words, and can practically see his approving grin from across the field.

It was quite the easy battle for Byleth, honestly. He knew everyone's tactics... the way the Black Eagles would rush to the hill, the way the Golden Deer tried to intercept them from the side... Byleth could have probably done that battle with his eyes closed.

He sent his students to fight the leaders of the other house. Perhaps that was selfish of him. But if Byleth had to fight Claude, he may have thrown up. And if Byleth fought Edelgard...

Byleth could feel the tense aura around Sothis, and her eager grin. 

The Blue Lions are hugging and cheering and laughing aloud. 

It seems as if everyone has forgotten about Hubert's hand. Everyone except Byleth and Edelgard, of course.

Someone picks up Byleth and spins him around, laughing. "Professor!" Dimitri exclaims. "You look so grim! Come celebrate with us!"

Byleth stares down at Dimitri, and the prince flushes. Quickly, he sets Byleth down. "Sorry, I should have asked before picking you up. Or touching you."

For some reason, it always slips Byleth's mind- how strong Dimitri actually was. 

Shaking his head, Byleth wraps his arms around Dimitri. "It is fine," Byleth says, feeling Dimitri tense, relax, and then tense again. The prince is oddly warm. Perhaps Byleth should have also asked before touching him. "I don't mind if we hug."

Byleth pats Dimitri's head as they hug, their bodies pressed together.

"Let me in on this!" Sylvain declares, running up to the two and throwing his hands around them. "Mm, professor, your hugs are the best, as always."

Byleth is barely even hugging him.

"His hugs are what."

Dedue is watching them, his lips quirked up in the tiniest smile. "Do not crush the professor."

Sylvain gestures over at Dedue with a beckoning hand. "Get over here, Dedue. Come on!"

"No."

Byleth is trapped and cannot move, so he is powerless to resist when Sylvain awkwardly shuffles in Dedue's direction and throws an arm around his torso, squeezing him into the hug.

"Sylvain..." Dedue warns.

"Shh, shh," Sylvain murmurs. "Just let it happen."

Dimitri frees one hand and moves it so it also brings Dedue closer into the hug. "Your... your Highness!"

"Ooh," Annette says, "they're hugging?! Without us?"

She grabs onto Felix's sleeve and drags him over too as he flails in her grip, and then traps him in the embrace, too. Mercedes links an arm under Ashe's, and Ingrid's, and brings them over as well. Caspar practically bounds over to them, dragging Linhardt by the collar. Flayn has grabbed the hands of Cyril and Lysithea, and pulling them into the embrace as well. Ferdinand chuckles a little before joining.

"This is uncomfortable," Byleth says, muffled by the Lions.

"Let it happen," Sylvain repeats, and Byleth sighs, hiding his smile.

He cannot help but feel that _something_ is wrong.

.

On the walk back to the academy, Rhea summons her to his side. Jeralt sends him a pointed look, nodding at Byleth.

"Rhea- Lady Rhea," Seteth protests. He's standing next to Rhea, sending her disapproving and distraught looks. "You cannot be serious. What are your plans with the professor?"

Rhea does not answer him. She sends nods to her guards, who fall behind quite a distance away.

"Just out of earshot," Sothis murmurs, as if this situation wasn't unprecedented enough.

Byleth strolls up next to her, eyes forward. "Hello."

"Hello, professor," Rhea greets. "I was watching your performance today. You and the students you have taught were stunning, but you most of all. Such... talented swordplay. I assume that you have gained mastery over the Sword of the Creator?"

Uncomprehending, Byleth nods.

As if on cue, Rhea shoots him one of the brightest smiles he's ever seen. "I should have realized it before... Your hair, the way you carry yourself... Now that you have received sacred power from the goddess, there is somewhere that you must pay a visit to at once. You must go to the Holy Tomb so that you may receive a divine revelation from the goddess."

In the back of Byleth's mind, Sothis goes oddly still. 

"What?" Byleth demands.

Rhea stares at him, face now devoid of any emotion. "Is there something the matter?"

"What... what about Remire village?" Byleth asks, still a tiny lace of edge within his quiet words.

Seteth and Rhea give him a look, Rhea more patient than the former. "What about Remire?" Rhea asks.

Byleth and Sothis share a look. When Sothis realizes that she has, she pouts and turns away. "Is... the village okay?"

"If you're worried about that village, we have recieved no such reports about anything amiss," Seteth says. "Why?"

"Nothing," Byleth replies, carefully blank. 

"I see," Seteth says, with the voice of someone who clearly does not see at all.

"Nonetheless, I believe that you have received power from the goddess," Rhea says. "Saint Seiros, the first soul to be gifted power from the goddess, received her revelation there. She was told that it was her sacred duty to save the people of Fódlan, and that she must use her power wisely in order to lead them."

Nothing happened the last time Byleth sat down on that throne. Besides, it was odd that there was no news from Remire. Was it because he had killed Solon? Or something else?

"And you want me to receive such a revelation," Byleth responds, almost a whisper.

Rhea stares straight ahead, as if seeing something that Byleth was not. "Yes," she tells him. "You are a special person, professor. There has been no other person able to wield that blade. The words that were handed down to Seiros from the goddess will likely fall upon your ears as well."

Sothis is quiet.

"There will be a ceremony at the Holy Tomb," Rhea continues. "It is then that you will receive the goddess' revelation. You may share this mission with your students."

That was the same, at the very least. But...

"Do you think it wise to bring them into this?" Byleth asks, tone steady.

Nodding, Rhea clasps her hands together. "It was said that when Seiros received the revelation, she had holy warriors by her side, protecting her. Your students, who have followed you and fought alongside you through the darkest of times, are well suited to stand by you for the ceremony. Of course, as the leader of the Church of Seiros, I will be by your side as well."

Both Byleth and Seteth speak at the same time. "Isn't that too dangerous?"

Rhea gives Seteth a look. "The Holy Tomb is a sacred temple that is sealed off from the rest of the world. You have nothing to fear." She stares down at her hands. "Even if something were to happen, I am more than capable of protecting myself."

"Much has changed, but your duty has never wavered," Seteth tells him, solemn and serious. "Steel your mind for the ceremony, and prepare your students well."

With that, Rhea and Seteth walk off.

Sothis is still absolutely silent, watching silently.

It should have been a good thing. Remire village is safe, the students at the school weren't used for experiments, Kronya and Solon were dead, and most of all, his father is alive-

But why did Byleth feel so uneasy?

.

As soon as Byleth returns to his room, he collapses onto his bed with a sigh. Sothis looks as if she wants to collapse next to him, but she refrains from doing so. Instead she lets out a bigger sigh that him and floats in a corner of the room.

Byleth sighs again.

Sothis sighs louder.

_Sothis?_

Nothing.

_Are you going to tell me why you're still upset with me, or are we going to sit in silence._

Not even the sound of breathing.

_...I'm sorry._

"...For what?" Sothis demands.

_I'm sorry for stopping you. But I-_

Sothis floats over to him and pinches his cheek roughly, angrily. "But you what. But you what, huh?! But you what, huh?! Huh?! Byleth?"

_I am not sure. But I am sorry that you are angry. And I am sorry that I cannot quell your anger._

"I am indeed angry," Sothis spits at him. "And you know why. Tell me, Byleth."

Byleth stares at the bedsheets.

"Tell me!"

_You're angry... because you didn't get to kill Edelgard and Hubert._

"And?!"

_You are angry because I stopped you._

"AND?!"

Byleth stops for a moment, opening and closing his mouth. _You..._

"I what."

Shaking his head, Byleth looks up at the ceiling instead of her eyes. _I'm sorry, I don't know. Please tell me._

Sothis takes a hold of Byleth's shoulders and shakes him roughly. "I'm angry! Yes, because you stopped me. Yes, because I couldn't kill them! But I'm also angry, because it seems like you have the tiniest bit of compassion left for them!"

Byleth stares. 

"Have you forgotten? The pain, the suffering?! The way they subjugated Fódlan?! The way that your students were hurt? How they used Demonic Beasts and created them out of students, and how they treated people's lives?! Have you forgotten, Byleth?!"

Looking away, Byleth fists his hands into the bedsheets. Sothis isn't having that. More gently than she pinched his cheeks or shook his shoulders, she cups his face in both hands and forces him to meet her eyes.

When Byleth finally looks at her, she continues, but more softly. "Have you forgotten?"

Byleth shakes his head. "Never."

"Good," Sothis says, freeing his face and setting her hands down on her lap. "Perhaps I should not have used your body, or maybe I should have discussed this with you beforehand. For that, I apologize. But I will never apologize for my actions."

Sothis lies back on the bed, groaning. "I hate them, Byleth," she tells him, as if it were a secret. "I hate the way they walk around, and make friends as if they weren't about to kill them as soon as possible. I hate the way Edelgard makes jokes with Dimitri like she wasn't about to rip away the last family that he has. I hate that I didn't kill Hubert, knowing what he will do in the future. And I hate the way you will not do something about it."

Byleth's entire being seems to freeze. "I-"

"I know," Sothis interrupts. "I know you cannot. You cannot kill her while you care about what your students will think. You cannot kill her, in fear someone will retaliate against your actions and hurt the ones you love. I know you, Byleth. I know your mind. You hate them too, but your hands are tied. I just..."

Sothis doesn't say a word for a few beats of silence.

"I need to do... _something._ I have to stop her. There's no other way."

_ **If no one helps a goddess...** _

_Who helps a god? Who guides their path, who hears their cries for help?_

**Byleth would.**

Byleth touches his chest, right where his heart was. Right where it was said it should be. Nothing. For a moment, Byleth wonders if there should be a scar on his chest where that woman's fingers were.

Finally, he looks up at Sothis, through long lashes. The room is dim, yet the light spills out around her head.

If Byleth stares long enough, he can ignore the pitch black darkness lapping at his ankles and thighs.

"If that is is what you want..." Byleth tells her, "then let us go get you that body. Right now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part one end
> 
> okay jk but not jk actually. i have godspeed split up into three parts in my mind, and this was just the end of part one! unlike the game, which has two parts, im splitting this into three. of course the parts don't really matter for reading purposes, but im just leaving this here for my own reminder lol. thank you so much for enjoying godspeed so far! jesus fuck can you imagine if the other two parts will be this long? maybe they will actually. lol
> 
> since school is literally this week, im taking a break from next week's update to adjust my schedule around all that shit. thank you so much for understanding!
> 
> has anyone elses italics been weird lately or is that just me lol 
> 
> thank you so much for reading! ♡
> 
> byleth/dimitri B rank  
byleth/dedue C+ rank  
byleth/felix B rank  
byleth/annette C+ rank  
byleth/ingrid C+ rank  
byleth/sylvain B rank  
byleth/mercedes C+ rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt C+ rank  
byleth/ferdinand C+ rank  
byleth/lysithea C rank  
byleth/cyril C rank  
byleth/flayn C+ rank  
byleth/caspar C rank
> 
> byleth/jeritza C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/claude C rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea C+ rank


	25. the residence of the sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone? did i keep you waiting? did u miss me? i totally did not frantically reply to yalls comments cause i realized that they would get deleted when i deleted that chapter
> 
> DID ANY OF YALL CLICK ON THAT LINK EVEN AFTER THAT CHAPTER SHAHSHSHHSHSHS
> 
> okay first things first! [beautiful comic](https://blehbetf-arts.tumblr.com/post/190476351966/hhhhh-here-we-go-uhm-so-i-made-a-comic-based-on) here is a beautiful comic based on dima licking sword juice by the very lovely blehbet! and this very lovely picture [beautiful pic!](https://squalothetie.tumblr.com/post/190233906598/lady-rhea-maam-if-you-wanted-ur-mothers) based off a certain someone ripping out byleth's heart by the lovely squalothetie!
> 
> i missed yall. for some reason this is 7k omg here's the chapter!

There's a knock at Byleth's door that grabs both his and Sothis' attention. Sharing a look with the goddess occupying his room, he walks towards the door. 

"Who is it?" Byleth asks, voice carefully blunt.

A beat. "Dedue, professor."

Byleth immediately opens the door. "Is something wrong, Dedue? It is quite late."

Dedue stares at his shoes for a few moments before looking up. "That is what I was about to ask you, professor."

"Me?"

"Yes," Dedue nods, focused intently on Byleth. "I could hear some sounds from your room. Is everything alright?"

Sothis, unseen, drapes herself over Byleth's shoulders. "He must have heard us talking to each other," she whispers, eyeing Dedue with an unreadable expression. 

"I'm fine," Byleth says.

Dedue blinks. "If you say so, then I have no other complaints," he tells Byleth, glancing into the room. Byleth knows what he'll see. Nothing. "Are you sure?"

Byleth nods. Nodding back, Dedue inclines his head ever so slightly. "I see. Sleep well."

Stepping out of the doorframe, Dedue walks back into his room without a second glance.

A pause, before footsteps start up again. Byleth waits for the creak of a bed before he closes his door. _Do you think he heard us?_

"So what if he did," Sothis says, flinging herself onto Byleth's bed and stretching there. "What would he say? My oh my, my professor is talking to air. La dee da."

More cautiously, Byleth sits on his bed, wincing at the groan of the mattress. _True. Alright. Tomorrow, we'll head to the Holy Tomb as soon as we can_

Instead of an answer, light breathing fills the air, even and slow. Byleth glances over to see Sothis fast asleep. Fondness wells up in his chest.

Brushing a few stands of hair away from her face, Byleth resigns himself to another night falling off of the bed. Perhaps he should start sleeping on the floor.

.

Byleth is walking out of the dining hall, stomach full, when he sees Sylvain leaning on the walls facing the pier. Byleth pays it no mind. Chalking it up to Sylvain's usual antics, Byleth busies himself by licking the crumbs from his lips.

He is not prepared for the way Sylvain pushes off the walls, smiling at him. A flash of pearly white teeth, eyes crinkling, as if looking at something particularly attractive.

Byleth narrows his eyes.

"Hey, professor," Sylvain says. There is a certain lull in his voice, a pull to his words. He draws the words out with a grin and Byleth is immediately on guard. "You, me, lunch. Of course, I'm paying. What do you say? I only ask that you do something for me... In return."

Sothis bursts out into wild laughter. "Is he _serious_ right now?!"

Obviously, Byleth is not impressed. "I just had breakfast," he tells him.

Sylvain, unperturbed, only steps closer. "Well, why don't we go on a stroll, you and I."

With a fond look, Sylvain lifts one hand to Byleth.

Byleth takes this chance to breeze past the boy.

"Don't be so cold, professor!" Sylvain says, immediately keeping pace with him. "Won't you at least glance my way?"

Finally stopping, Byleth turns to him. 

He raises one hand in Sylvain's direction, palm up. "Okay."

Sylvain stares at Byleth's hand blankly. Impatient to get to the Holy Tomb, Byleth makes an absent gesture with his hand. "Didn't you want to hold hands?"

"Yes, well, no, I..."

Byleth stares.

"I actually came to ask you a favor," Sylvain says, having regained his usual composure. "I just wanted to work up the courage to ask you."

"Am I scary?"

Sylvain immediately shakes his head. "No, no! Not at all! You could never be scary to me, ever!"

Byleth frowns. He's actually kind of insulted. To be honest, he rather enjoys being a daunting figure.

"You could have asked before you needlessly tried to have me in your favor," Byleth says, and then purses his lips. "You are already in my favor. There is no need to pretend with me. Just ask."

Sylvain smiles at him, shoulders relaxing. "Thanks, professor. There are actually thieves in my family's territory. I was wondering if you'd go and drive 'em off. You... remember Miklan, yeah?"

"Yes, your brother. I remember."

With a frown, Sylvain runs a hand through his hair. "What's left of his band of thieves is causing trouble in Gautier territory. My father has asked me to come home and put down those murderous jerks. But he's... asked for me to come alone- no knights, no backup of any sort."

Sothis' brow wrinkles. "That's ridiculous."

As if able to hear her, Sylvain nods. "That's crazy, right?"

"Why just you?" Byleth asks.

Sylvain flings his hands up in the air, exasperated. "Because he thinks he'd lose face asking the church for help. I don't know. He could have asked another trusted house for send troops, but he only asked me. And the way my father is... he probably has some other motive that I'll never know."

_How awful._

"Tell me about it," Sothis murmurs.

As if trying to be nonchalantly, Sylvain grins wider. "Maybe he just wants me to get more experience in battle. Crazy way to suggest it though."

He shakes his head, possibly to shake the thought itself from him. "Anyway. I'm not going alone, no matter what he asks. I'm going to ask some of the others in our class to help too. But..."

"That's where I come in," Byleth finishes.

"Yeah, exactly," Sylvain agrees. "None of us have your experience. If you'd come with us, I would be grateful."

"Of course," Byleth says, and then stills when Sothis doesn't react.

Sothis pokes him. "This is more immediate than the body," she insists. "Let us help him out."

"Great!" Sylvain says, obviously happy. "I'll talk to the others and see who's in. Thanks, professor!"

Byleth watches as he scurries off, a skip in his step. _I suppose I should get ready as well._

.

Once they reach their territory, Byleth divides his students in two groups in an attempt to corner them. Byleth's fingers spark with magic. It's odd. He feels as if he's on top of the world, like he's learned a whole new set of spells.

He doesn't dwell on it. Instead, Byleth nods at Sylvain.

"Okay," he declares, "we've got the thieves covered on both sides. Some of the thieves are still carrying what they stole, so we have a chance to get it back."

Byleth nods. "Although new items are important, safety is first and foremost. Let us end this swiftly."

"We gotta be careful though," Sylain says. "They'll run off faster than a noble man's if we just rush in. Target the strongholds to cut off their escape routes."

Out of the corner of his eye, Byleth can see Ingrid giving him a look. Byleth sighs.

"Let's go," Byleth says.

The battle begins. 

Byleth immediately runs up to the first enemy and strikes them down without a second thought. Blood splatters onto his cheek. He raises his blood stained sword up at the bandits nearby, and they flinch.

"My father's offering a reward for every thief and rogue that we take out. The more you beat, the more you get," Sylvain calls. "Just remember, you gotta take them down fast. They'll bolt as soon as they're hurt. Take the strongholds and we cut off their escape route."

Byleth is already dreaming about all of the gifts and the fish bait he can buy. Pointing his blade at one thief, they immediately flee.

"H-holy shit!" One bandit exclaims. They examine his hair and his armor before letting out a sound similar to a whimper. "Is that the Ashen Demon?! We have to get the fuck outta here!"

Byleth is both flattered and insulted at the same time. "Don't run away," he says, causing them to all run in varying directions.

He narrows his eyes.

Maybe he should try out that new magic.

"Don't," Sothis says, floating at his side. She runs a hand down his arm. "Keep it a secret for now."

_Alright. Am I allowed to know what it is?_

"Not yet," Sothis tells him. "Soon."

Byleth shrugs and gets back to work.

.

Once they're rid of the thieves and have collected their reward, they are ushered into a humongous house by a dapper looking man, seated on a couch so expensive looking Byleth stands instead. 

Sylvain disappears into a room across the hall and comes back out a few moments later, face flushed red.

"Hey-"

"Don't," Sylvain hisses, and stomps off around the corner. The Blue Lions follow, but Byleth stares at the door he just fled from and heads inside.

It seems as if it's a meeting room. A long table made of dark wood is stretched out to fit the room size with a significant number of chairs matching the wood. One of the chairs has been knocked over. There are two massive chandeliers dangling from the ceiling, and a tapestry depicting a red haired person at the far end, with the crest of Gautier etched into it, front and center.

In front of that tapestry stood a man.

He turns towards Byleth with a smile. "Ah, you must be that child's professor. I am his father."

Byleth says nothing.

"I want to thank you for ridding our territory from these thieves," Margrave Gautier says, head dipping into a mockery of a bow. "It was an effort that would not have been possible without you."

Byleth looks at him and wonders how Sylvain could possibly be his son. They did look similar, indeed. Sylvain's father hardly looked like a father. He looked like a young adult, especially with his smile. The only thing giving him away were the slight creases near his eyes. His nose was different, too. Perhaps it was Miklan's nose. Maybe Sylvain looked more like his mother. Perhaps they shared a softer jawline and bright eyes.

But Sylvain didn't look so... untrustworthy. If Byleth met this man at a bar, he would have never turned his back on him, always keeping him somewhere in the corner of his eye. It was perhaps his odd youthfulness that made him so untrustworthy. 

Byleth knew that was not it.

The real reason Byleth did not trust him was because he was the type of man to disown his son for something so superficial as a crest.

"Do not thank me," Byleth replies, peeling off his gloves and frowning at the stains.

"But you have done excellent work," Margrave Gautier adds, still grinning. "Thanking you is the least I can do."

Byleth regards the man cooly. "Perhaps save some of that thanks for your son," Byleth says, blank as ever. 

Of course, Sylvain's father chuckles, walking towards him. "I wouldn't want his ego to inflate any more than it has. You are his professor, correct? I apologize on behalf of him. He must be a handful."

Byleth only looks at the man. Margrave Gautier laughs a little, the sound not as pleasant as Sylvain's own. "Don't be so cold, professor. You are the the professor of that child. Do you speak to all your students that way?"

Regarding Sylvain's father coldly, Byleth still does acknowledge him. "No."

"No," the man agrees. "So let's get along."

"No thank you," Byleth tells him. "If you have time to waste on pointless niceties with a stranger, then you have time to speak with your son."

It seems as if Margrave Gautier is contemplating such a statement. Then he grins again, teeth white as snow. Byleth remembers the blood caught in Sylvain's teeth the first time they fought Miklan, and hates this man a little more. 

"We aren't strangers," Sylvain's father informs him. "You take good care of my son. You know, he doesn't write much about school, or his friends. Just business. It would make me happy if you would tell me about his life at the academy."

It's Byleth's turn to contemplate. He rolls the words around his head and his tongue for a moment, internally debating with himself. "Why would I do anything to make you happy?"

Margrave Gautier stares at him, eyes cold. Then, just as suddenly, he bursts out into laughter. "My son must love you," he tells Byleth. "You're just as hard headed as he is."

"He had to learn something from _someone._" Byleth says, tone icy. 

Byleth cannot stand this type of person.

"Listen," Margrave Gautier says, placing a hand on his shoulder. Byleth bats it away, but Sylvain's father only places his hand back where it was. "Let's be friends. Your name is Byleth Eisner, right? Can I call you Byleth?"

"No," Byleth responds.

Completely ignoring Byleth, Margrave Gautier throws that arm around his shoulders and pulls him in. Byleth does his very best not to be tempted by his thoughts, all echoed by Sothis- 'cut off his arm for touching you,' and 'wipe that smirk off his face by force if necessary.'

"My full name is Clément Henri Gautier," Margrave Gautier informs him. "You can address me either by my first or middle name."

Byleth is amazed by this man's audacity. "No."

"You should really play nice with me, professor," Clément, Henri, Margrave Gautier, _whatever_, tells him. 

Byleth is no stranger to being threatened or challenged in a similar way. Cocking his head, Byleth only becomes more closed off. "Or what?"

They both stare. Clément, ugh, beams. "Or nothing. I just want to be friends."

.

Byleth walks out of their domain restlessly picking at his shoulder. _I'm going to have to bathe the entire evening to cleanse myself of that man._

"Tell me about it," Sothis groans, a grimace rapidly forming on her face.

Sylvain has lost the flush in his face, but his posture and expression just screams anger. Byleth can relate. He's at the back of their group, eyes on the ground. Dedue has a hand on his back.

Byleth looks away when they lock eyes.

"Was he bothering you?" Dimitri asks him, hands carefully folded behind his back. After talking in hushed voices with Sylvain, Dimitri has taken up the front with Byleth. "You know, I could make Margrave Gautier stop, professor. Any one of us could. The Blue Lions are at your service."

Byleth rolls his wrist around, relishing in the loud cracks it makes. "He's just bothersome," Byleth informs him quietly. "Those sort of people only get encouraged when they get a reaction. It's fine."

"It's not fine," Dimitri immediately cuts in, a swoop of blond hair covering his eyes. "No one is allowed to touch anyone without permission. No one is allowed to touch you without permission."

Byleth considers this. "If he was not Sylvain's father, I would have threatened to lop off his arm."

"Feel free to do so anyway!" Sylvain calls from the back. From his tone, he's still very upset.

Dimitri chuckles, almost affectionately. "You heard him."

"Just because he tells me to cut off his arm does not mean that I will," Byleth says simply, examining the dry blood and caked dirt underneath his short fingernails. He needed to clip them as soon as they returned.

The prince watches Byleth frown at his hands, and then says, with a light air that was honestly concerning-

"Professor. Would you like me to do it?"

Byleth does not look away from his hands, but the line of his shoulders tense. "Do what?" 

That tone.

His voice.

"Take off his arm, of course," Dimitri says easily, then tries for a laugh. "Of course, I am joking. Of course."

"He said of course three times," Sothis informs him, something about her tone absolutely giddy.

Byleth has no idea what to say.

"You better be joking," Sylvain calls once more. His animosity seems to rise. "I can do it myself!"

They reach the academy with conversation started up once more, but yet still it is subdued. 

Byleth ushers all of the students save for Sylvain through the gate.

Sylvain is finally making eye contact. Unprompted, Sylvain begins to speak, his face falling into his usual expression, as if nothing was wrong. "I talked with my father. He did indeed intend to teach me how to properly use the Lance of Ruin. To claim it as my own."

Byleth nods.

"I see why he thinks that's necessary. Still, using Miklan for that purpose... If he was still alive, I wonder what he'd think about that."

Byleth makes a quiet sound. "Are you still thinking about your brother?"

Sylvain's posture nor expression changes. "I suppose I am..."

Quietly, Byleth reaches out to take Sylvain's hand. "You can come to me whenever you want, no matter the hour," Byleth says, voice steady. "No matter what. I'll hear you out."

Sylvain's eyes become bright before he turns away, shielding his expression. "Even if I want to talk about girls?"

"Yes," Byleth says. "Even then."

"Then... May I speak with you about Miklan sometime?" Sylvain asks. He sounds unsure.

"Of course," Byleth says. "Only if you want to."

.

It's a mild day. Perfect for going into Holy Tombs and stealing a body for a goddess to use.

Perfect for Byleth to practice his footwork before dawn. 

He imagines a faceless enemy before his eyes, blank even behind the steel helmet. It glistens in the morning dawn. Byleth breathes.

Rolling his wrist around, he adjusts the weight of the sword in his hand, gripping the hilt more towards the blade.

Byleth aims for the head, intent on taking it off. The imaginary soldier ducks. Byleth steps forward, crouching beneath the soldier's sword. He can practically feel the rush of air above his head. 

Eyes narrowing, Byleth disarms the soldier with barely a thought.

One. He steps forward, twists, and jabs his elbow into the soldier's neck, back to his chest.

Two. The soldier hunches. With his free hand, Byleth yanks the soldier's sword arm forward, strong enough to have dislocated their shoulder. Their sword drops. 

Three. Byleth swings his blade-

The clatter of steel meeting steel snaps Byleth out of his reverie.

His sword has met with Felix's own. Byleth immediately backs off and eyes the boy for injuries. Nothing remarkable. Byleth would have never forgiven himself if he had hurt him.

"That was dangerous, Felix," Byleth scolds. Huffing, Felix does not lower his sword. He does, however, loosen his posture.

"You weren't paying attention to your surroundings," Felix chides in return. "I was calling for you."

"You could have waited."

"I think not."

Byleth frowns as Felix levels a sword to his face. "Spar with me. If I disarm you, you have to do me a favor. If you win... I have to do you a favor."

Faintly, Byleth remembers Felix asking for help in his past life. Something about rescuing villagers? It was hazy. Felix didn't need to try and prove himself for Byleth to help, however. 

But he knew how stubborn the boy was.

"You're on," Byleth replies.

.

Felix's sword clatters to the floor. Soon after, so does Felix himself. 

The boy groans.

Byleth offers his hand to pull him up. After a look, Felix takes it, sighing.

"May I cash in my favor now?" Byleth asks. Felix looks really upset, moreso than usual.

"Fine," Felix spits. "Whatever."

"Okay. My favor is asking you what you needed a favor for."

"What."

Byleth doesn't respond. Instead, he picks up Felix's sword and deposits it into the racks. "You heard me."

The boy snorts. "Fine. My father sent a messenger. He wants me to return to Fraldarius territory."

"I thought he was still here," Byleth says lightly. 

Felix crosses his arms against his chest. "No. He left a few days ago for the very same reason he asked me to come. You've met him, I assume. I have heard something about... a dad club."

"Yes," Byleth says, desperately pushing away memories of Rodrigue's blood on Byleth's hands. 

"Then that makes this easy. You have heard about the Tragedy of Duscur, I presume?"

"I have."

Felix nods at him. "After the king's death, public order disintegrated. Bandits continue to raid villages across the Kingdom, including those within Fraldarius territory. My father says he needs help driving the bandits away."

"And you want my help," Byleth replies.

Felix now has the faintest grin on his face. "Precisely. Good guess."

"Here we go again," Sothis says. "It's fine. Go help your students."

Just as soon as it appears, the smile fades. "Perhaps I shouldn't pull you into this... It stems from my family's failure to secure the region. But honestly, I want to see you in action. I never tire of watching you fight."

"I'm pleased to hear that," Byleth says, genuinely flattered. "Stop, I may blush," he continues, although Byleth's face is blank and his voice is still monotone.

This statement, alongside his blank face, startles a chuckle out of Felix. "I promise, it'll be much more interesting for you than the training ground." Felix smiles once more, a challenging quirk to his lips. "Or maybe this task- driving off bandits- seems dull to a former mercenary?"

Byleth attempts a grin of his own. "I'll join you," he tells him.

"Excellent!" Felix says. "While I'm at it, may I ask you another favor?" 

He waits until Byleth nods. "Could you recruit more fighters? I bet there will be willing volunteers, if you're the one inviting them."

Byleth nods. "I don't mind, but I'm not sure about the last part. I will do my best, though."

Felix gives him a look. "You're kidding."

"About what?"

Frowning, Felix sighs. "Whatever. I'll set out on my own first and meet you there."

.

Enthusiastic students in tow, Byleth encounters an impatient Felix on the road and they all up their pace. No one dares comment on how Felix seems to be worried rather than annoying in his haste.

As soon as they arrive, Byleth notes the villagers and thinks various curse words to himself.

He disliked missions with civilians. They would always run towards the enemy and get themselves cornered and scream if Byleth did not get over there fast enough. It was bothersome, but Byleth had to do it.

"Hmph. Struggling to defeat some bandits? What a pathetic old man my father is," Felix spits. He examines the terrain. "Some villagers are trapped. Let's help them escape."

"Hm? Byleth? Did you just think 'I was afraid that he would say that?'" Sothis inquires, a smirk on her face. 

_It is not that I do not want to help,_ Byleth explains. _It is that they always seem so desperate on refusing it._

Sothis sighs, a smile on her face. "Just do your best."

_Don't I always?_

From the distance, Byleth can make out Rodrigue directing villagers away. As soon as he notices them, he raises a hand in greeting. "Felix, my son!" Rodrigue calls, looking pleased. "You've finally brought reinforcements!"

In his past life, Byleth remembers that Rodrigue had gifted Felix with the Aegis Shield. And that was when they had saved all of the villagers. He doesn't want to risk not getting the shield.

Gritting his teeth, Byleth prepares for battle.

.

After three Divine Pulses and resisting the urge to scream, Felix is handed the shield from his father with a lopsided grin.

Byleth takes this time to fantasize about shaking the villagers by the shoulders, when Sothis pinches his arm and he realizes that he's being addressed.

"We are grateful for you help," Rodrigue says, bowing. It's nothing like Margrave Gautier's bow, which was near painful to watch. Here, Rodrigue is smiling at him, sincere and grateful. "I doubt those bandits will stop any time soon. But at least this village is safe. This village was important to the late king. If he hadn't saved it, I wouldn't have been able to face His Majesty."

At Byleth's side, Felix immediately snarls. "How foolish," the boy mutters, under his breath. Almost a whisper.

Apparently not quiet enough. "Pardon?" Rodrigue asks.

"We were protecting your subjects, not your ego," Felix snaps, louder now. "I don't give a damn as to whether you can bring yourself to face a dead king."

Byleth remembers this.

But this is a matter he cannot intervene in.

"I will not tolerate such language from you!" Rodrigue exclaims, looking angry now.

Felix jabs a thumb at his chest, face twisting with anger. "I came here to hone my blade, and to save innocent people." He takes a moment to breathe, then goes absolutely blank. "I suppose if I had died, you would say the same thing you did after Glenn's death."

He is not, however, a master of blank expressions like Byleth. When he says the next words, fury and resentment is written all over his face. "He died like a true knight," Felix mocks.

Rodrigue cannot reply.

Felix's nose scrunches up, as if he'd expected that his father would not say a word. "I have nothing more to say," he says, voice cold. He turns to Byleth. "I'm going back."

Byleth watches him go, the crunch of leaves announcing his departure. Then Rodrigue speaks.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," Rodrigue says quietly. "He's been like that for four years now. I understand his sentiment. It all comes down to... Well, a difference of opinion."

Byleth tilts his head to one side, contemplative. "I suppose I must disagree with you as well."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Rodrigue smiles at him. "So, that's how you feel about it. How fortunate it is that Felix has met someone like you. I could see it, on the battlefield, you know? Felix, alongside the other students, just watching you move. Listening when you talk. Trusting your word. There's nothing as heartening as having someone around who really understands you."

Rodrigue places one hand on his chest and bows once more. "He's an odd boy. Thick headed in some ways. But he is my son all the same. I'm glad he has you to look after him."

Byleth regards Rodrigue blankly. "If he is your son," Byleth says, all emotion cleared from his voice, "then you should look after him more."

With that as his parting words, Byleth turns and walks away, intent on finding Felix.

He can feel Rodrigue's eyes boring into his back. He doesn't turn around.

.

Someone grabs at his arm.

"Professor!" Byleth turns to see Annette and Lysithea just behind her. "Come, come! Let's make some sweets together!"

Sothis makes a sound akin to a screech. To be honest, Byleth feels the same way. Everytime he wanted to go to the Holy Tomb at times they would not be caught, something or someone would interrupt.

Byleth has to stay strong.

"I'm sorry, Annette," Byleth replies, and valiantly attempts to not look at her directly, lest she shoot her puppy dog eyes at him. "I am busy right now."

She pulls at his arm. "Professor, please! You know that I'm a screw-up in the kitchen! You've helped Mercie and I countless times before! Come on, pleeeeeeeaaaase."

Sothis pulls at his other arm. "Say no. It's evening. They should be heading to bed. Besides, you can always make sweets with them later."

_Urgh. It's hard to say no to them, Sothis. I want to get you that body. I really do. But how can I say no to them?_

"Like this. No."

It's Lysithea's turn to pull at Byleth's sleeve, almost angrily. "Come on, professor. We have to convince Felix that sweets are good. You will help us, right?"

Byleth purses his lips. "I am busy. Please go ask Dedue. Or Ashe. Or Mercedes."

"But profeeessor," Annette whines. "We wanna make sweets with you!"

Both girls look at him with expectant expressions. 

Sothis sighs.

That's how Byleth finds himself licking lemon cream off of a spoon a few hours later, describing each taste to Sothis. She has finally given up on going to the Holy Tomb today, instead refocusing her efforts on making Byleth try everything in her stead.

_Lemon has a sharper taste compared to strawberry,_ Byleth thinks, motioning towards the little strawberry shortcakes. _And these macarons are made with tea._

"It seems as if you are more reliable than I thought," Lysithea says to him with a huff. She's removing chocolate cookies from the oven. "Annette insisted on asking you, but I wasn't sure how a mercenary could help us bake."

Annette pouts. She's putting decorative berries on some tarts. "I told you that the professor is amazing," she insists. "He can do everything."

Byleth tilts his head to one side. "No."

"Yes," Annette swears. "I mean, look at this spread of delicious sweets and treats! We couldn't have done this without your expertise! Even Mercedes was surprised!"

_I learned everything I know about sweets from her,_ Byleth thinks. _And you. And Dedue, and Ashe. I really don't know anything. But you all taught me how to bake. You all will likely surpass me soon._

Of course, Byleth does not say that.

Instead, he regards the amount of sweets with calculating eyes. "Tarts, cakes with strawberries and cream, cookies, lemon cream puffs. Is that enough?"

The girls make approving sounds. "Okay," Byleth says, wiping flour from his hands and clothes. "I shall be on my way then."

"Hey!" Lysithea exclaims. "You have to stay for when we bring Felix in!"

"Besides," Annette adds, tone turning sweet. "Don't you want to sample them? They are for book club tomorrow, are they not?"

"They're what."

.

"...A well of despair and hatred so deep within him, he could never see the bottom. If one dropped a stone down its depths, they could never hear nor see it fall. That man, that scourge..."

Sitting in the library were the Blue Lions, plus a handful of other students from other houses. Bernadetta was there, biting down on her lower lip. Marianne and Ignatz were new editions, although the former was in a corner far from the others and the latter was far more interested in creating some sort of work of art based on the story they were reading. Dorothea had apparently come to a meeting or too as well, but Byleth has never noticed. He's taken to grading papers while half listening to others read and share their opinions on the current book that they were reading.

Ashe clears his throat as the main character does. "I have never loved another like you," he reads, book in one hand and gesturing wildly with the other. "My very heart aches at being apart from you. I was told to die for you, to die with you, if needed. I was not told to die of heart break, should you leave this earth without me at your side." 

"Byleth," Sothis begins, voice low.

_Yes._

"What are we doing in book club?"

Byleth tilts his head ever so slightly at Ashe, fervently reading aloud. He's really into it, flushed with excitement and with sympathy for the main character. The rest of the students seem engaged. Even Bernadetta, who had meekly crawled out of her room, has stopped hiding behind her hands to focus more intently on the story. Byleth thinks that Cyril may be crying. He's not sure. Perhaps the sniffles came from Caspar, who was rowdy at first, and settled as soon as Ashe recalled fantastical battles.

Maybe all of the students are getting emotional.

_Because Ashe and Ingrid asked me to supervise again._

Sothis gives him a look that tells him she might think he is quite slow. "Fine. Holy Tomb, right after. Alright?"

_Alright._

Today, in book club, they were reading the story of a man torn between his lover and his country, desperate to be together and yet forever separated by invisible boundaries, wars waged, and debt washed in blood and hatred. 

Sothis has been making helpful commentary about how everyone should just stab their problems. Intriguing, yes, but the story would end in two chapters.

The flip of a page.

"I have met you a thousand times underneath the falling snow," Ashe reads, voice choked up. His accent has already faded, an attempt to embody the main character. Byleth has no idea how they went from self-hatred to pining. "And each time, I have only fallen for you more and more. Never was there a sight more lovely than you and me, alone together beneath the falling snow. Even the world stilled so we could meet."

"I thought the world stilled, why is the snow still falling?" Caspar demands, as if tired of being still and silent. 

"Shh-"

"Caspar, shut up!"

"Come on, man..."

Caspar leaps from his seat. "I'm boooored. Linhardt, let's go."

Linhardt is asleep in his chair and cannot be moved. Caspar stomps out on his own, pouting.

Byleth glances at what page they're on and stands. "We should end book club now anyway. You've gone through many chapters."

And Byleth wanted to get going to the Holy Tomb.

"Alright," the students agree, and start to pack up and leave, pushing their chairs in.

Ashe pokes Ingrid on the shoulder when she doesn't move. "Ingrid?"

"Woah!" Ingrid exclaims, surprised. She puts a hand over her chest. "You scared me."

With a tiny frown on his face, Ashe looks down at her. "You're scaring _me,_ Ingrid. You didn't pay attention at all today. You didn't even smile when your favourite character appeared! What's wrong?"

Ingrid sighs. "I'm sorry to worry you," she says softly.

"That's right," Dorothea agrees. "What's the matter, Ingrid? I never hear you sigh like that."

Byleth takes this time to join Ashe and Dorothea. Ingrid blinks up at both of them. "Oh, hi, Dorothea. And hello, professor. Nothing's the matter. Well, nothing major."

"You don't look like it's nothing major," Dorothea responds, a worried expression on her face. "Then again, I suppose you always have a furrowed brow, don't you?"

Sothis rummages through Byleth's memories and swears. "Oh no. Why does this always happen..."

Ingrid reluctantly tells then that her father had recently sent her a letter, the contents of which reveal a marriage proposal. Dorothea, making a face, divulges the fact that he is a major sleaze and an asshole. 

Byleth knows what's about to happen.

"What do you think, professor?" Dorothea addresses him. "Should we go check this guy out?"

"We should," Ashe says. "Even if Ingrid has no intention of marrying him, if all these rumors are true then we should do something about it!"

Sylvain walks over from where he was tucking a bookmark into in his book to place one hand on Ingrid's shoulder. "It's my job to vet all of Ingrid's suitors," Sylvain says. "We really need to check this guy out."

"Since when were you-"

"I agree," Dimitri cuts in. "It wouldn't do to let this fly. Professor, it's all up to you."

Byleth looks at Sothis out of the corner of his eye. She pouts, but nods. 

"Alright," Byleth says. "Let us depart. Dorothea, would you care to join us?"

With a grand smile, Dorothea nods. "Of course! I suggested it. I can't let this person touch a hair on Ingrid's head!"

Ingrid sighs. "Uh, really? Are we doing this?"

The Blue Lions all start agreeing at once, various looks of determination on their face, as if the other students were not there.

With a smile, Ingrid relents. "Okay... Let's do it."

.

Unsurprisingly, the suitor is an asshole who relies on blood money to keep his wealth. Even if Byleth did not live another life, Byleth could tell anyone that himself. Dorothea was trustworthy, and Byleth's gut was never, ever wrong. 

"Be careful," Byleth says to the students. "The location is near Ailell. Which means-"

"It's hoooooooot," Linhardt groans. 

"Well," Ferdinand says, with a grand smile, "at least we have discovered that the individual who desires Ingrid's hand in marriage is not worthy of her, not to mention the fact that his demeanor and actions are not noble like."

Linhardt staggers over to Ferdinand's horse and crawls on the back of it, slumping against him. "Ughhhhhh."

Dorothea doesn't even look like she's broken a sweat. "Pft, the more we look into this guy, the more I see he's a monster, and no good for my Ingrid."

Dimitri, Sylvain, and Felix had been particularly angry when they had stumbled over Ingrid's suitor's true character and intentions. The boys were practically stomping the entire way back.

"My Ingrid?" Sothis hums, smiling to herself.

Ingrid sighs. "No kidding. There's no denying it. We had better get back to the monastery."

"Hold it right there!"

Byleth peers over to see a few bandits yelling in their direction. "Keep walking, they're just bothersome," he instructs his students. They follow.

"H-hey! I said hold it! Hand over the girl!"

"Absolutely not," Dorothea says, raising her brow.

Ingrid blinks a few times before gawking. "Hold on. Surely you cannot mean me. Wait... Did that guy send them?"

"This jerk figures that he can grab Ingrid before things can get too messy for him," Dorothea spits angrily. "Of course, we know the truth about us now, and he'll want to kill us and get rid of the evidence... But we'll never let him take Ingrid. Come on, let's hurry!"

Ingrid's childhood friends step forward with something dark in their faces. Ingrid herself doesn't look too pleased. Perhaps he could let them handle it this time. 

.

The battle is easy. Far too easy. Ingrid, Sylvain, Felix and Dimitri in particular are mowing down enemies without even blinking. It's almost as if Byleth had blinked, and they were already at the monastery, Ingrid just returning from telling her father all about that man's unsavory business and behavior.

Ingrid returns to the monastery standing tall, cheerful and grinning. Thanks flowing from her lips. Lúin in one hand. A ring in the other.

She presents it to Dorothea.

"Oh, Ingrid! I accept your offer! We'll be together forever!" Dorothea gushes, examining the gleam of the ring in front of her face. She's wearing a teasing smile. 

Ingrid tilts her head to one side. Then, she catches on, and matches her smirk with one of her own. "That's great, sweetheart. Shall we have a summer wedding?"

Dorothea turns an impressive shade of red. "S-sweetheart?!" Apparently, despite all of her teasing, Dorothea did not expect to be treated in the exact same manner.

Byleth nods. "You heard her."

A moment passes in which Dorothea turns every shade of red Byleth knows. Her lips wobbles dangerously. "Well, I..."

"I'm joking," Ingrid says, although she too has turned pink. Byleth wants to leap out of a window. He feels as if he is intruding. "Like you. Just trying to be sincere, right?"

"Right..."

The girls share a look that Byleth feels as if he was intruding on should he read into it.

_I don't want to be here._ Byleth thinks, so loud he wonders if the girls can hear him.

"This is how everyone feels when you accidentally flirt," Sothis tells him.

_I don't._

"You do," Sothis admonishes, sighing loudly. "But some people enjoy it."

_No way._ Byleth insists. _Who would want me to flirt with them? Besides, Sothis. I'm not an idiot. I would know if I was flirting. Obviously. _

"...I hate you so much," Sothis tells him.

Byleth is not surprised when Dorothea asks to join the Blue Lions the very next day. 

.

Byleth leaves his room like a man leaving jail for the first time in years, breathing in the fresh air and the total lack of students, staff, and especially Linhardt from his door. He bumps fists with an elated goddess, who is also busy practically dancing on air and jumping around.

He does one quick look around. Full moon, dark sky, an endless amount of stars. A stray cat and her kittens trotting behind her, tails raised to the night above. No students sneaking out. No students outside his door. No Seteth making the rounds. 

"No Linhardt," Sothis murmurs, sounding quite pleased.

_I already thought that._

Basking in the sweet, sweet silence, Byleth sighs and steps outside.

He takes his time examining the sky, counting stars and making a game out of certain stones. It's wonderful, no one to bother him-

A rustle.

From around the corner, coming from where the classrooms were. 

Byleth immediately puts a hand on the hilt of his blade, eyes narrowing into slits. He hears steps, so Byleth ducks around the wall he was hiding behind and whips the blade out and points it at their throat.

Oh. It's Claude.

Claude, who has hidden something behind his back.

"What are you doing out so late?" Byleth asks, walking up to the boy. For a moment, Claude pretends as if he hadn't heard, still staring up at the sky. When Claude turns, he's got an unreadable smile on his face.

"I could ask you the same," Claude says, focusing on Byleth. "What are you doing here, pointing swords at people?"

"I'm asking you to return to your dormitory," Byleth replies evenly. He gestures lazily up at the moon. "It's late. And you have classes tomorrow. You walk very quietly, Claude. Most people would not have noticed you were even there."

"Yeah," Claude agrees, but doesn't move. "I can find my way back, if that's alright."

Sothis tugs at Byleth's sleeve. "I don't trust that."

_Neither do I._

Claude puts one hand on his hip, the other still hidden behind his back. "You don't trust that I can walk myself back to my room, teach?" 

"No."

"Aww, don't be like that!"

So Byleth walks Claude back to his door with minimal complaints. Claude's closing the door when he stops, and leaves the door open a crack. 

"What is it, Claude?" Byleth asks, when the boy keeps on staring.

Claude shrugs at him, his smile a white curve through the darkness. "Nothing. You just have a really interesting hair colour. Good night, teach."

The door slams shut.

.

The Holy Tomb is bathed in a pale green light, as always. It's almost nostalgic to arrive here. Byleth runs a finger down the walls, the corridors echoing his footsteps. 

Sothis is skipping down the stones, and twirling around as if to a song only audible to her ears. She's not egging him on, nor scolding him. 

Her lips mouth words that Byleth can barely make out. Something about time's flow? He's never been good at reading lips. Nor Sothis' mind. She spins so fast that Byleth is dizzy looking at her, an unfamiliar dance unfolding in front of his eyes.

Byleth is excited.

His hands are shaking without his permission.

With each step towards the throne, Byleth can practically feel history building underneath their feet.

What would happen when the goddess herself returns to the world?

Sothis turns toward him with a curve to her lips. "Something fun," she tells him.

"Don't say it like that," Byleth sighs. "You're making me nervous."

She kicks up one foot and spins, hand lifting her skirt so she does not trip. Her steps become complicated. Another spin. Her skirt flutters delicately. It's quite charming to see Sothis so excited that she's dancing and humming the entire walk there.

"I wouldn't do anything to hurt you," she says, after a hum. "Or your precious students."

She smirks, fingers to her lips as if to cover her expression.

Byleth shrugs. "I know."

"Your faith in me is inspiring," Sothis says sweetly. 

Their conversation apparently over, Sothis continues to hum. Already used to the melody, Byleth hums along. She shoots him a grin before continuing.

The song seemed familiar anyway.

Both of them continue humming until they reach the stairs. Inexplicably, Byleth feels uncharacteristically nervous. He doesn't know why. If his heart could beat, he could imagine it crawling out of his throat and wringing itself from his mouth to writhe on the floor.

It's terrifying.

Exhilarating.

Like battle.

The stairs seem abysmally shorter this time. Perhaps that was because Byleth was taking the steps two at a time.

And there was the body.

Sitting there patiently, as if waiting for them. 

Sothis walks up to the body and tucks a strand of hair from their cheek. "Are you ready?" Sothis asks. Although she's not turned to him, her question is pointed.

"Is there anything I need to be ready for?" Byleth asks, walking up to the throne.

"Mm," Sothis says, distantly. "You need to sit on the throne next to them, and sleep."

Carefully, Byleth adjusts their body so they're only taking up half of the throne, and settles down next to the body. It's odd. Although Byleth was aware that the body lacked life, it was unmistakably cold, and downright eerie to sit next to. 

He eyes the uncomfortable position the body is in, how the neck is at an odd angle. Byleth adjusts their head so it rests on his shoulder and closes his eyes.

They shoot back open. "I can't sleep," Byleth says.

Sothis sighs. "I have to do everything around here, don't I?" 

Raising one finger to Byleth's brow, she taps his forehead lightly. The sound seems to echo around the room.

Byleth slumps in his throne, fast asleep. 

The goddess looks upon him fondly.

Sothis cracks her knuckles. "Time to get started."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY GUYS. WE ARE YEETING CANON OUT OF THE FUCKING WINDOW GOODBYE THANKS FOR COMING SEE YOU LATER
> 
> it's part two! get ready for more claude! more edel! byleth actually using the pulses! sothis moving the plot forward when byleth does not want her! screaming! denial of feeling! oblivious byleth! someone getting a clue! romance! possible character death! dragons! going batshit crazy! stupid fucking politics! family feels! 
> 
> actually it's not really really part 2. i wont start putting part 2 in the chapter names lol it's just for me to remember where shit goes. heshhshsh
> 
> i missed yall! i hope that u enjoyed this chapter! thank you so much for reading! ♡
> 
> byleth/dimitri B rank  
byleth/dedue C+ rank  
byleth/felix B rank  
byleth/annette C+ rank  
byleth/ingrid C+ rank  
byleth/sylvain B rank  
byleth/mercedes C+ rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt C+ rank  
byleth/ferdinand C+ rank  
byleth/lysithea C+ rank  
byleth/cyril C rank  
byleth/flayn C+ rank  
byleth/caspar C rank  
byleth/dorothea C rank
> 
> byleth/jeritza C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/claude C rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea C+ rank


	26. deliver us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone! phew it feels good to hop back into the fray. this was a chapter that i had a lot of fun writing, so i do hope you enjoy! 
> 
> i am very very very very very nervous. time travel fics either like. go completely off the fucking rails or change one event and Then go crazy go stupid AAAAAAA. i do believe i am doing the former lol
> 
> okay who did yall vote for cyl, if at all? i did a combination of dimi and soren because i would die for both of them. im sure yalready know that i love dimi but like. soren was my first fire emblem love you know? BESIDES CHROM BUT YOU GET THE POINT. first personality love, i suppose
> 
> thank u so much for reading! here is the chapter!

If Sothis knew that Byleth had even the slightest bit of compassion left for Edelgard and Hubert, she would have aimed for Hubert's head rather than his hand.

Really, she did know. She knew his mind after all, the way he still startled whenever he saw Dimitri, young and with both cerulean eyes, and a wide grin. She knew that he would gaze after his father's back as if he would disappear at any moment.

Sothis knew how Byleth felt when he woke up and saw her hacking Hubert's hand off in one fell swoop.

Not anger. Not sadness. Not fury when she had used his body for her own.

**Envy.**

It still seems as if the Ashen Demon still lurked under Byleth's depths, one and the same, hurt and desperately clawing at any sort of vengeance he could achieve. He should have been the one to take off Hubert's hand. He should be able to stop their plotting, stop all of the future events that would sully the earth with blood and gore.

He wanted peace for his students, and his father. He still hated Kronya, and still hated what the war had done to the ones he loved, and still hated the way Edelgard, five years older, had stared at him sadly at Gronder.

_Don't mock me,_ Byleth had thought, so vehement and full of rage. _Do not look upon me like everything would be different had I taken your hand. You disgust me._

Byleth was so very angry all of the time, despite his blank face and his gentle nature towards his students. Furious about how Mercedes still waited for her brother to return, even though he understood. Resentful that naysayers looked upon Dedue with scorn, as if he were the one to cause all of this destruction upon their land. Seething that he had yet to watch Edelgard choke on her own blood-

And yet.

And Byleth desired peace. Perhaps not for certain people.

And yet.

Byleth was exhausted constantly, both mentally and physically tired. He was tired of wanting peace. He wanted to set Edelgard and Hubert's room on fire as he tied them to their beds. He was tired of hating them, a bone-tired sadness that aged him, although not physically but mentally, a weariness that was burdensome- but steadied his sword. Tired of being satisfied when cutting down enemies. Weary in sleep, weary awake.

It burdened him that only a few people that he trusted knew of his secret. Byleth wanted to tell Dimitri, but there was no telling how that boy would react. Maybe Dedue, steadfast and loyal, but he would tell his prince. In his past life, he trusted Seteth as well, but there was no possible way Seteth would know and not tell Rhea. 

Byleth desired many things. Peace. Happiness. A blade that never went dull. Warm soup on cold days, for his students and his father to live long and fulfilling lives full of love and affection. To sleep without dreams. 

To see Dima once more, not in dreams nor memory.

In his deep reverie, tears would drip down his face and Sothis, powerless in this moment alone, could only watch. He was never good at expressing emotion, but Sothis knew his heart, his mind, his soul. He was so, so very distraught, as if his heart itself was begging to beat just to play a mournful melody.

_If there's another way, I'll take it,_ Byleth would think, hands curled up in the bed sheets when he thought Sothis was asleep. _If I don't act soon..._

_If I don't act now..._

_I could do it._

_So easily. _

_If I don't do this now..._

Sothis smiles as she regards Byleth fondly, sound asleep on the throne. There was a certain slack about his face, tired and sad, which near disappeared in sleep.

The goddess clasps her hands together. "Byleth. You who have seen both sides of time. You, who I hold most dear. I, Sothis, the beginning, the goddess of this mortal realm, will answer your prayers."

A noise.

Sothis whirls around and screams at the top of her lungs when she sees the person standing there.

At the bottom of the stairs stands Linhardt, hand to his chin. "Professor," he calls. "Were you tired? You have forgotten to close the opening behind you. Professor? Do not fret, I have done it for you. I must say that I am quite upset that you have neglected to tell me that you were coming here again."

When Byleth does not respond, Linhardt makes a disapproving noise.

"Unbelievable. The professor came here without me?" Linhardt mutters aloud, pursing his lips. "Very well then. I suppose I shall snoop."

Linhardt takes his time climbing the stairs. It is apparent that this boy does not do much physical training, the way that his chest falls and rises deeply as he reaches the top.

"Goodness, professor. What a horrible place to sleep," Linhardt murmurs, walking up to Byleth and kneeling at his front. He brushes a longer strand of hair out of his face, examining his dark circles. "Perhaps I should..."

The boy trails off. Sothis is quite tempted to gaze into this boy's mind as well, to see what lurks in his thoughts. Linhardt was an interesting boy, after all, no matter how much he got on her nerves. 

There is something tender about the way Linhardt analyzes his professor. 

Sothis' eyes narrow.

Finally, the boy stands, brushing imaginary dust and debris from his knees and moving on to the body sitting at Byleth's side.

"How very curious," he says, examining the body at all angles. "If I recall, professor did say that they were not related in any way. There _is_ something curious about it, too. How did it get here? Only the professor could..."

When Linhardt reaches out to grab a lock of that body's hair, it is not as gentle as the way he had handled Byleth's own. Sothis may be overthinking, but...

"Same colour," Linhardt comments, and then releases the hair. He bends over to use two fingers to pry one of the body's eyes open. "Same here, as well."

Sothis is gawking at this boy's audacity. How could he simply just walk up and gleefully inspect a body?

Linhardt takes a few steps back and squints his eyes at them. "They really do seem related," Linhardt whispers, a frown forming on his features. "It could be possible that the professor is simply not aware of it. But why would his relative be here, in the academy's basement? And if they were dead, then how are they so whole and well preserved?"

Those were indeed interesting questions. Perhaps Sothis could ask Seiros later.

Mind racing with more questions than answers, Linhardt steps away from the bodies and heads back down the stairs. But not before he glances back once more at the pair, still and silent upon a throne. 

Sothis floats down to join the boy in his searching. Linhardt traces the patterns in the walls, and scrutinizes the design of the floors, the large squares indented permanently into the ground. 

It does not take long for his attention to turn to the graves.

He first turns his attention to the crumbling, ruined statues at the head of each tomb. With one finger, he runs a hand around the stone plates and stares at his hand.

"No dust," Linhardt murmurs. "How very curious."

Sothis feels as if he is trying to memorize the designs and cracks upon each statue and tomb. 

Linhardt finally turns to the graves themselves, attempting to lift their lids. A bead of sweat appears on his brow as he struggles to lift the heavy slab.

"I should have woken the professor for this," he groans loudly, arms shaking. Linhardt focuses on lifting with his legs and core, and the lid moves.

Before Linhardt can peer inside for longer than a second, Sothis raises her hand and the boy crumples haphazardly to the floor. 

"Forgive me," the goddess whispers. "I cannot allow you to disturb the resting place of my people. Maybe one day, when you are ready and capable. Sleep, and dream fleeting dreams."

Sothis snaps her fingers and the boy disappears, having been warped back to his bed, gently tucked under the sheets with a pillow under his head.

Although Sothis was not as strong when she was not in a body, she was certainly still capable. After all, she was able to give Byleth the gift of Divine Pulses.

Finally rid of the boy, Sothis floats back up the steps and stands in front of the throne. First, she makes sure that Byleth is asleep. When she is totally and completely assured that he will not wake, she takes his hand, squeezing it ever so gently.

Sothis closes her eyes.

.

_A **crunch.**_

_Dima has forgone utilizing the perfectly capable lance in his hand for gripping the nearest bandit up by their head and crushing their skull in his fist and tossing them to the side. The body hits the stone floors at an angle, crumpled up and lifeless._

_The thieves all around them flinch._

_Byleth attempts to search for something familiar in that man's face, his posture, his fighting style. There is nothing that suggests anything about the prince that he had known from what seemed like mere weeks ago. _

_His fighting style reminded Byleth of the pack of feral wolves that would circle villages in particularly frigid winters- desperate, bloodthirsty, and hungry. Byleth had tried to approach one. It had snapped at him, the fur around its snapping jaws dark with what was likely blood. His father had killed that wolf and tucked him, still so tiny, into his jacket._

_It had been a long time since Byleth had thought about the wolf. _

_So desperate to live. To sink its teeth into its target. To see another spring._

_One of the thieves attempts to target Byleth instead, thinking him the weaker target. Perhaps to catch him off guard, or to distract Dima, looming near._

_As soon as that thief is in range, Byleth disarms the man faster than a blink, their axe clattering to the earth._

_He is about to tell them to run off when a lance guts the bandit from stomach to shoulder._

_Byleth does not even register that they were killed until their body hits the ground. More and more thieves flee from them._

_"You."_

_Dima looms above him, casting a grim shadow onto Byleth. Byleth does not turn around, his back still towards Dima. He wonders if that is a dangerous idea._

_"Me," Byleth agrees, finally tilting his head up to look at the man. "What is it, Dimitri?"_

_His student says nothing for a moment, his one eye searching Byleth's face for something incriminating. Byleth doesn't know what he is looking for._

_"Does the smell of filthy rats not curdle your senses?!" Dima hisses, a scowl twisting his features. "Mercy is wasted on the undeserving, especially these filthy creatures. Look at them. Look. Look how they lap up what is not their own. Look how they smile, all the while, they take advantage of this abandoned place, professor. Look. Are you seeing them? How rancid they are?"_

_"Mercy was not my intention," Byleth says coolly._

_Dima bares his teeth. Perhaps it was meant to be a smile, but with the blood caught in his mouth and the intensity of his gaze, it could never be a grin. "Intention really has never mattered, has it? If you're not here to exterminate them, then leave my sight."_

_Byleth says nothing as the man continues on his rampage. Blood spills into the cracks in the stone floors and reaches Byleth's feet. He follows the trail._

_._

_"Go away," Dima says, not looking at Byleth. He's staring at nothing, one eye never blinking, staring into the rubble and destruction within the cathedral._

_Byleth ignores him and sets the tray of food at his feet. The water sloshes in its jug as it is set down alongside it. He sets his own tray down alongside it, pulls out a book from his cloak, and sits down on the floor next to Dima._

_He takes small bites of his fish sandwich as he reads the novel. Ashe had recommended it. It is a story about a princess and her handmaid, who fall in love and fight dragons. Riveting, to be honest. Good fight scenes were Byleth's weakness. _

_Mercedes and Marianne have pushed him out of his room after they had seen the diagrams and maps with markings and plans scribbled onto them covering every inch of his floor and walls. Byleth had relented when he realized that fish was on the menu._

_Byleth turns the page and takes a sip of his water. Some of the Blue Lions had joined him for varying amounts of time. Felix, to inform Byleth that he was insane for even attempting to get through to Dima, even though he had stared after Dima with a look that spoke more than Byleth wanted to read into. Annette, to set a plate of cookies between them and frown when Dima did not even react to her presence. Ingrid, who had sat next to Byleth and polished her weapons, and Seteth to discuss some plans for the next excursion, Flayn hurriedly chasing the man off. _

_When the light dims enough that Byleth can no longer read a page without squinting, he closes his book, memorizing the page he was on. He only has a few chapters left, so he is quite satisfied with his progress. Standing, Byleth realizes that Dima has not touched his food or his drink at all._

_Instead, he is whispering promises to those that only he alone can see._

_"Dimitri," Byleth says. "Dimitri, can you hear me?"_

_"...swear, I will kill her when I can, I promise, you will all be so..."_

_Byleth leaves, but does not take the food. He hopes that Dima will eat before morning._

_._

_Byleth runs a cautious hand over Dima's mauled arm. There are shreds of skin peeling away from claw marks and blood dripping into every indent of his armor. He focuses all his intent to a sloppy heal spell, but it seems to do the job, as the gore seems to seep back and is replaced with healed skin. _

_"I don't need help," Dima hisses at him._

_Sighing, Byleth runs another hand over Dima's cheek, healing the jagged mark there. Dima slaps his hand away with no amount of gentleness, and Byleth's hand seems to ring with the amount of pressure put onto it. _

_"I SAID THAT I DON'T NEED HELP!" Dima screams, looking over Byleth as if to intimidate him. Byleth merely blinks up at him and does not flinch. _

_"Then stop getting yourself injured," Byleth responds, looking the man over for any more wounds that he has potentially hidden._

_Dima makes a sound that could almost mean a growl. "Injuries mean nothing."_

_A very bad idea pops up in Byleth's head._

_Byleth flicks the king between his brows and almost regrets it when he is the subject of his intense stare. "Stop that," he tells him. "Just because you have no regard for your life doesn't mean others do too."_

_For a moment, all Dima does is stare. Just as suddenly, he cackles, a horrible, heart-wrenching sound, which chills the air as Byleth listens._

_"You're a fool," Dima tells him, humor cracking the sides of his mouth and baring his teeth. "A hypocrite as well, professor."_

_Byleth does not enjoy how the man has made a mockery of that word. "Okay," Byleth says. "It must be so, if I am willing to listen to you ridicule me."_

_"You are more delicate than you appear if you are insulted that easily," Dima replies, something low in his tone. "Have you become soft in the years that you have abandoned us?"_

_Byleth ignores him. It wasn't worth getting worked up over this. _

_"Nothing to say? You're the professor. You must have all the answers, as always," Dima tells him. _

_"For someone that demands me to leave them alone and to stop speaking in their presence, you sure have many words for me," Byleth says, monotone._

_Without another word, Byleth stomps off without looking back once. Byleth is sure Dima has not even noticed, nor does he care._

_._

_"You," Byleth admonishes, pushing Dima's chest with as much force as he can muster. Of course, the man does not move, or react. "Don't be so reckless. You nearly got Sylvain and Dorothea killed running after you."_

_Byleth reaches into his cloak and takes out a jagged piece of cloth and runs it down the blade of his sword. It would wipe all of the blood from the weapon, but Byleth would welcome any attempt to clean it of the blood he'd spilled._

_He pushes back the memory of Ferdinand's wide eyes and long hair, matted with blood._

_"The Imperial soldiers- those rats- were getting away!" Dima spits, looking down on Byleth. "No one is allowed to get in the way of my revenge. Not the Blue Lions, not even you!"_

_"No one was running," Byleth says softly. "They were all prepared to fight us."_

_It was true that many soldiers attempted to avoid Dima when possible. Byleth did not blame them. In his wake, he left gore and destruction all over the battlefield. _

_Byleth goes silent for a moment. "You have endangered many people, including yourself today. You will not be allowed to join the next battle."_

_He's prepared for Dima's sudden swipe at his body, so he jumps back. _

_"You cannot do this to me. I must have my revenge, professor. I will not stop until I hang that woman's head from the gates of Enbarr!" Dima yells, closing in on Byleth. "You cannot stop me. If you get in my way, I will not even allow you to choose your own death! Go ahead and join the ranks of the rats, and no love of mine will go with you."_

_The area is silent. _

_Byleth steps forward._

_"If that is the case," Byleth walks over to Dima, taking one of his hands and guides it around his neck. "Then go ahead and squeeze."_

_The expression on Dima's face is indescribable, inscrutable. As if touching hot coals, Dima jerks his hand away from Byleth's neck and stomps off._

_._

_Byleth has not even realized that he has been following Dedue around the entire day until the man himself points it out in the cathedral. _

_"I am not going anywhere, professor," Dedue says. Byleth takes the time to examine his face more, the new scars, the sharp cut of his jaw, and his eyes. "Professor?"_

_"Yes," Byleth agrees. "I understand. But I have missed you."_

_Dedue ponders this statement for a moment. "I have missed you more."_

_It's such a surprising thing to say, especially from Dedue. Byleth is taken aback. Sometimes he forgets that he has been essentially dead for the past five years._

_"That's impossible," Byleth says blankly, causing a slight tug to Dedue's lips. "I have missed you most."_

_"It appears that the two of us are at an impasse, then," Dedue relents. _

_A companionable silence fills the air._

_"Professor."_

_"Forgive me," Byleth says softly. "If you are uncomfortable with my staring then I shall stop."_

_Dedue shakes his head. "It is not that I am uncomfortable. I am just..."_

_"Just?"_

_"It is I that should be staring," Dedue says, like he was admitting a secret. "Five years. And you look no different."_

_His statement is not so much an accusation as it is a casual observation. As if Byleth had done something different with his hair or wardrobe rather than not age over half of a decade._

_"I would look horrible with a beard," Byleth replies, the thought absolutely appalling to even Byleth himself. "Or a mustache."_

_Dedue merely glances away. "You know that is not what I meant."_

_"...Yes."_

_"His Highness- no. His Majesty had missed you when you were gone. So... So did I. We have all missed you greatly. Occasionally, I see the members of the Blue Lions staring after you as if you would disappear at any moment. That is the same way that you have been looking at me, and I you." _

_Byleth rolls the words around his mind for awhile. "I did not intend to be away so long," he admits. _

_Instead of looking at Byleth, Dedue is staring at Dima's back. "Nor I."_

_"Please take care of him," Byleth says. Dedue does not turn, but he nods._

_._

_A child is crying._

_Silent, gasping sobs that sound more desperate and lonely compared to loud crying. Byleth startles, head whipping around to search for the source of the sound. He doesn't have to look hard, for the child is right in front of him._

_They're a tiny waif of a thing, blond hair and round faced._

_"Hello," Byleth greets, and the boy jumps. _

_"W-who are you? How did you get here? I'm- I'm telling the guards!" _

_"I am Byleth Eisner," Byleth says, tone softer so as to not startle this child. "What about you?"_

_The boy wipes at his eyes and the tears are spread across his face. "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," the boy says._

_"Fair," Byleth says. He says nothing more. He does not want to scare this child._

_When Byleth does not move, the child blinks up at him with watery eyes. "I'm. I. I am going to go tell the guards! Attack me and they will be cross with you!"_

_"I don't plan on attacking you," Byleth says, still soft and slow. "How is this. You can ask me questions, and I will answer truthfully. Then you can decide as to whether or not you can trust me. You can even hand me over to these... guards, if you so desire."_

_Surprisingly, the boy raises his fists. His posture is not terrible for someone so young. Perhaps he was trained by someone remarkable. "Wh- what do you want?"_

_"Nothing," Byleth says. "Least of all, you being hurt. I just want to know where I am. I don't recognize this place. If you do not want to answer any of my questions, then I will not pressure you to."_

_The child considers this. Then he nods. "My punches hurt," the boy warns. "D-don't try anything!"_

_"I will not."_

_With a wary expression, the boy frowns at him. "Why is your hair green?"_

_This startles a smile out of Byleth. "Actually..."_

_._

_The questions from the boy all range from do you know who I am, to ones like why do you wear all black and why are your eyes so green. Byleth asks him questions about his favourite colours and what his favourite animal was, instead of their location. For some reason, he felt that the boy would not answer. He did not want to startle this child, for he did seem to cry easily._

_He claps his hands together. "My turn, okay?"_

_"Yes, of course."_

_The child puts one finger to his cheek. "Why have you yet to kill Edelgard?"_

_Byleth stills._

_"I don't get it," the boy says, his blue eyes wide with innocence. "You could have killed that woman so many times. Why didn't you poison her tea? Why haven't you killed her in that mock battle? Why haven't you snuck into her room and strangled her to death? Come on, Byleth. Come on. Why haven't you, huh? It would be so easy. Filthy rats must be exterminated before they plague the land, right? Why not put her head on display for all to see? Why not insert your sword into her belly and drag it up, up, until she dies? Want me to handle it? I can, you know. Or would you like the honor of seeing the light leave her eyes? Although I would be a bit jealous. But I can share!"_

_Tiny hands reach up to his neck and squeeze. Byleth is powerless to move. "Byleth, Byleth, come on, come on, come on come on come on come on come on-"_

_Byleth. _

_Byleth?_

"Byleth. It is time to wake. Have you had a nice rest?" A voice asks him.

"Nnng. Nn. No. Sleepy..."

Someone flicks him between his brows. "Get up, Byleth! It's time to rise!"

Byleth rubs at one eye, sighing. "Sothis, five more minutes," he pleads, for who else could it be?

"Fine. Five minutes and no longer. I do wish that you can see me as soon as possible."

Huh?

Byleth jolts up so fast he nearly knocks heads with the figure in front of him. The body is standing in front of him, arms crossed against their chest. "Sorry, sorry... Wait. Sothis?"

The body- _Sothis-_ rolls her eyes. "It took you long enough."

She flips her hair over one shoulder, and it is dyed in her normal colour. When she claps her hands together, the black armor adorning her body is turned into a dress similar to her own.

Sothis smiles at him. "Good morning, Byleth."

Byleth doesn't even think. He stands, dashes up to Sothis, and picks her up, spinning her around. "Sothis! Sothis! Sothis, is that you?"

"Of course it's me!" Sothis exclaims. "Put me down already!"

"Are you sure?"

"No, I'm- Of course I'm sure! Who else would I be?!"

Squeezing her in an embrace for a final time, Byleth places her safely down onto the ground. "You're amazing, Sothis. How is this possible?"

A tiny grin appears on her face. "It's because I am just that incredible," she agrees. 

"Can you still float?" Byleth asks.

In response, she hovers a few inches above the ground.

Byleth claps. _Can you still read my mind?_

"Yes," she says aloud. "There is a part of me that will always be with you."

"That is so cool," Byleth says, genuinely awed. "Sothis, you are so cool."

The goddess turns pink. "You flatterer, you."

Byleth clasps his hands together eagerly. "Are you able to turn into a dragon?"

Sothis smiles at him, languid and sweet.

"_No way._"

"Yes way," she counters. 

"You must teach me," Byleth says, cheerful. 

The goddess tilts her head to one side, as if genuinely thinking about it. "Before that, Byleth. I am not sure that this form can be permanent."

Frowning, Byleth juts out his lower lip. "Eh? Why?"

Placing a hand on her chest, Sothis' eyes close. "Something is missing," she whispers. "Something very important."

"Then we can go find it," Byleth says simply. "What is it that you need?"

With a smile that is almost melancholic, Sothis regards him fondly. "Something that I am not able to to take for my own." She claps her hands together suddenly, changing the subject immediately. "By the way, Byleth. You owe me a sandwich. Then we must discuss what happens next."

.

That is how Byleth finds himself in the dusk of early morning fishing on the pier. 

"I cannot see," he informs her. With a roll of her eyes, she conjures a flame in her palm which spreads and spreads and explodes into a gentle poof, illuminating the area they sit in.

"That is so cool," Byleth says.

"Are you going to say this every time that I do something?"

Byleth shakes his head. "It is just... so very amazing that you are here with me."

The goddess' expression softens. "I am always, always with you."

So Byleth teaches her how to attach line to the rod and how to properly cast it so it does not catch in their clothes or hair. Sothis insists on catching the fish, and she is so sure of herself that Byleth allows her to do so. 

Sothis ends up catching a Teutates pike, a fact that she is pleased about to no end. Once more, Byleth teaches her again- how to remove the scales from fish and how to gut them.

He directs her into the dining hall after making sure that no one was inside, and teaches her how to fillet a fish properly, removing the bones and skin.

"This is a simple recipe," he informs her. "We are simply going to cover the fish with salt, pepper, and paprika. I will make the sauce and cut the bread. Please fry the fish gently."

Sothis jumps at the oil that splashes out of the pan and Byleth smothers a laugh. She is surprisingly good at cooking- perhaps she was been watching Byleth with a critical eye, or perhaps she has done this before.

They finally plate the sandwich, and Sothis does not wait for the fish to cool down. Taking a bite, she winces at the heat but does not spit out her mouthful of food.

"This is good," Sothis says, looking surprised. She licks the sauce from her lips. "I had forgotten... Never mind. Are you not going to eat?"

Byleth picks up his sandwich in response and takes a bite. It is good. The fish has a delicate crunch to it, with a soft, white inside. The sauce only heightens the flavors, and since Byleth had toasted the bread on a pan, it had a satisfying mouthfeel. "Mm," he agrees. "Mm. Yes. It is good."

The two of them sit in silence as they finish their sandwiches. "Okay," Byleth says. "How are you planning on announcing yourself? Perhaps you can be my twin sister."

"Impossible," she tells him. "In your father's journal, it is mentioned that Rhea was present at your birth. How would you explain the sudden appearance of a sibling? Also, I doubt that she does not know that the body is- was, in the Holy Tomb. She is not a fool. The moment her eyes fall upon me, she will piece something together."

"Magic," he replies easily. Sothis rolls her eyes. "But I do have somewhat of an idea. Why not try multiple attempts and Divine Pulse should they fail?"

"Not a bad idea," she agrees, licking crumbs from her fingers. "What are you planning for our first attempt?"

"When everyone is gathered for the Divine Revelation, you pop up behind the throne and yell 'guess who?'"

Silence.

"You are out of your mind."

Byleth's stoic face threatens to turn into a grin. "Okay. Why not float down from the ceiling and turn into a dragon. That will get the point across."

Sothis stares at him.

"You simply want me to turn into a dragon," she says. 

"Yes."

"Byleth!!!"

Byleth cannot help himself, and reaches out to ruffle her hair affectionately, face still blank. She looks very angry. "Okay. I promise that I will think of a plan."

A sudden thought occurs to him.

"Sothis."

"Yes?"

Honestly, Byleth is afraid of an answer to his incoming question. "What... are you planning to do now?"

The goddess' smile is a sharp cut across her face.

.

It is a long time before Byleth and Sothis fall asleep. Sothis falls asleep quicker than Byleth, and despite the fact that Sothis now has a body, she is still sprawled across the bed, taking up the majority of it.

Byleth is still pondering her words.

He cannot say that he disagrees, but...

Sighing, Byleth decides not to dwell upon her words. It would be better to think about this in the morning.

Ever so gently, he pushes her body slightly over and curls up on his side.

It is odd, to see her with a body.

The body she is using is similar to her own, but not entirely accurate. Sothis is now taller, and looks far older. She had changed her hair and her outfit to resemble her usual look, but it is still odd. 

Sothis did not give off body heat when she was still sharing his head. Nor did she breathe. Something occurs to him, and so Byleth takes her wrist ever so gently and searches.

No pulse.

Like him.

For some reason, this reassures him.

Byleth can feel himself dozing off, so he allows himself to be swept under the wave of drowsiness.

A knock wakes him.

Cracking one eye open, Byleth realizes that it is near morning. He didn't sleep for long. 

"Professor, I'm coming in- WOAH!"

It's Sylvain, who looks just as sleepy as Byleth feels. Still half asleep, Byleth turns his head to see what has startled the boy. Just Sothis.

He closes his eyes, and then realizes something.

Sothis has a body now. Sothis is visible now. Sothis is sleeping with him in the same bed. It was platonic to him, but he couldn't blame anyone for thinking that...

"I can explain," Byleth says, his nerves nearly betraying his blank expression. 

It must look somewhat... suspicious, Byleth's legs tangled up with an unfamiliar woman, asleep in his bed, arm wrapped around his waist, but surely Byleth could come up with an explanation.

_Hey Sylvain! Guess what, I have been sharing my body with Sothis my entire life, and we have only just now separated when we found an unused body in the basement of the academy! Yes, you heard right, Sothis, as in the goddess of Fódlan! Don't worry, your professor isn't having liaisons with strangers! We're just sleeping together, but not in the way that you're thinking, I promise! And don't tell anyone! Ehe!_

There was no way in hell Byleth was saying anything remotely resembling that.

Sylvain rubs at both eyes, blinks a few times, and widens his eyes slowly. 

Byleth watches as Sylvain closes the door gently. 

A beat passes.

The sound of someone _bolting_ away from the door.

"_**Sylvain Jose Gautier!**_"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apparently my favorite character to write besides byleth is timeskip dimi, cause i fuckin had a blast writing him. dont you want to go crazy? aren't u tired of being nice? hell yeah hell yeah
> 
> sothis has a body now! what does that mean for the story? it means good bye canon. like actually seriously. see you canon. thank u for coming over but i have to kick you out now. 
> 
> honestly im so excited! and scared. genuinely fucking terrified, honestly. still, i really really really hope that u enjoy anyway! that last part wasn't even meant to be in the fic but i stared at it so long i need it to be there
> 
> thank you so very much for reading! ♡
> 
> byleth/dimitri B rank  
byleth/dedue C+ rank  
byleth/felix B rank  
byleth/annette C+ rank  
byleth/ingrid C+ rank  
byleth/sylvain B rank  
byleth/mercedes C+ rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt C+ rank  
byleth/ferdinand C+ rank  
byleth/lysithea C+ rank  
byleth/cyril C rank  
byleth/flayn C+ rank  
byleth/caspar C rank  
byleth/dorothea C rank
> 
> byleth/jeritza C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/sothis A rank  
byleth/claude C rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea C+ rank


	27. eternal snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all are any of yall gonna watch the sonic movie? im going! it'll either be horrible or really good and im excited to find out which one it'll be. but u know what's more exciting? next i see you, the dlc will be out! holy fucking shit my dudes it's finally here! i cannot wait to meet everyone aaaaaaa 
> 
> JUST A HEADS UP FOR THE CHAPTER. i would have changed the rating if i wanted a certain scene to go a certain way. thank you for your understanding!
> 
> onto the chapter!

Byleth does not have much experience with romance.

He has hugged people before, his father, his mercenaries. He has also held hands with those very same people, when he was little and they were worried he would wander off and get lost.

There was a woman in Remire whose name he does not remember who had given him bread every couple of days. She was a bit older than he, and wore her brown hair into a bun. Her hands were covered in flour as she presented the loaves to him.

She had never asked for anything in return, only that he was required to think of her as he ate the bread. Byleth can hardly remember her face, but he knows the aroma that seemed to linger around her- the enticing smell of a bakery. Was that romantic, or was she really generous? 

Byleth does not know. His father had once told him that he was the type to never understand the intentions of others unless they were said outright. Byleth agrees wholeheartedly.

He has kissed people before, and by people, he means Dima. Their first kiss was perhaps not really a kiss.

It was a faint memory, although Byleth had turned it over and over in his head ever since that day. There was the rain and the deep gray of the fog and the warmth of Dimi's body as he had practically bitten his way to Byleth's mouth, snagging his tooth on Byleth's lower lip. It bled and Byleth had refused all attempts to heal it, although he was completely and utterly aware of how stupid he was.

There was the second time. Did kisses on the cheek count as kisses? It seemed as if Dima did not even think about kissing him properly- one moment Byleth was putting a book back on its shelf, and the next Dima had wrapped an arm around his waist and kissed his cheek. Byleth didn't mind, but he didn't understand. Dima never elaborated either, but he kept his arm around his waist and their sides pressed close together.

The third time was completely rash. Byleth had simply seen Dima and had the sudden, irrationally urge to kiss him. So he did, the lightest peck upon his lips. He didn't even realize that he had kissed the king in front of others until Annette started shrieking and Hilda was demanding money from some bets.

And then.

And then there was the Silver Maiden.

.

_"Yes, I... just want to take care of this as soon as possible." Dima informs him. Byleth regards him like he would an enemy upon the battlefield. There is a slight tremor to his stance, a slump to his posture. He is rubbing the back of his neck as if there was an itch that he could not rid himself of._

_Frowning, Byleth lightly touches the side of his arm. "It is late. We can depart in the morning."_

_Dima sighs, but does not relax. His shoulders only tense with each breath. "I was thinking that we could depart tonight and camp-"_

_"Absolutely not," Byleth informs him. He traces the map on the table with a gentle finger. "It will only take a few hours to reach the fortress."_

_"But the longer that I wait the more that innocent-"_

_There is a deep weariness that appears on the king's face, a sort of exhaustion that makes him look older and more melancholic. Dima is wrought with a burden placed upon his shoulders too young. A new crease has formed between his brows._

_In that moment, Byleth has decided._

_"Allow me to take you to bed," Byleth whispers. When he was little, he had learned to massage his father's tired shoulders and his weary back. He could certainly help Dima in the same way. "I can help relax you."_

_Something in the air shifts._

_"I don't," Dima begins, and then cuts himself off so suddenly Byleth is worried that he had bit off his tongue. "I don't want you to feel like you have to- to- relax me, in this way, I would be happy to just stay by your side..."_

_"It is no trouble," Byleth replies, quiet. He has always gazed upon Dima's tense back and wondered if he even knew how to bend his spine. "I have wanted to do this for a very long time."_

_"A-are you sure?" Dima asks. The king seems to have curled in onto himself. One hand has traveled to curl into a fist upon his chest, just over his heart. _

_He's trembling._

_Is he scared?_

_"Do you not desire it?" Byleth shoots back._

_A quiet moment filled with- with _something_ that Byleth could not explain even if he dared descends between them and chokes Byleth's throat. It seems as if he is not the only one, for Dima seems to have lost all words in favor of searching Byleth's face with an eager eye._

_"I do," the king finally says. When those words leave his lips, it is as if his entire being relaxes in one soft breath._

_Byleth nods. He picks up the map and folds it away, then takes Dima by the hand and leads him toward his room._

_The door opens and closes with a daunting finality. Byleth is uncharacteristically nervous. He has not given a massage in years, and especially not to someone he regarded with a more romantic manner._

_One of Dima's hands trail a slow, gentle hand upon his back. Without Byleth's permission, his body shivers._

_"Is this alright?" Dima asks him, hand stilling in place._

_"Yes," Byleth says. With shaking hands, Dima pulls off his cloak. He presses it to his chest, as if not knowing what to do with it, and then settles for draping it upon a divan._

_Byleth takes the time to gaze upon the room. The bed is ginormous. Five people could probably fit comfortably inside, with ample room between. Tied to the bedposts are sheer curtains that are the slightest tint of blue. Byleth realizes, then, that practically everything is either a shade of blue, gold, or beige. The rug, the tapestries, the cabinets and dressers._

_"I feel as if I am too poor to even walk in this room," Byleth confesses. _

_Dima starts. Only then does Byleth realize that he is shrugging his own cloak slowly off of his shoulders. He's now peeling away his armor slowly. For some reason, his face is both pale and also a lovely pink. Dima's fingers tremble as they strip him of any armor._

_"Allow me to aid you," Byleth says, already walking over to him._

_"Ah, yes, of course," Dima agrees. Inexplicably, his hands are still shaking. The tremble in his hands is rattling his shoulders. "Of course. Anything you want."_

_Byleth cups the back of his neck with one hand, and slowly slides it down his shoulders. Dima's trembles stop- and then start up again, but stronger. His entire neck is bright red, likely flushed from keeping the armor on all day._

_Working fast, Byleth strips him out of his chest plate, arm guards, and pauldrons. He sets them onto a table. Next, the greaves, and the rest of his armor. They all seem to sink into his palms._

_Soon, the king is left in nothing but a thin, long sleeved shirt and his trousers._

_Dima is breathing heavily._

_With a slight frown, Byleth places one hand on his chest. "Your heart is racing," he observes, noting how it had picked up as soon as Byleth had touched him._

_"It is," Dima agrees. His face is so warm, Byleth can practically feel the heat radiating off of him._

_"There is no need to be nervous."_

_This makes the king chuckle. It reverberates into his palm, and makes Byleth feel especially tender. "How can I not be, when it is you? I cannot help but want to impress you at every moment."_

_Feeling rather bold, Byleth tucks a strand of Dima's hair behind one ear. That ear, too, is flushed. "You could never disappoint me."_

_"Byleth," Dima breathes. Byleth actually startles at the sound of his name. Watching his reaction, Dima's body actually shakes. "F-forgive me! Was that too forward?"_

_"It is fine," Byleth says. "I was only surprised. You have never called me by name."_

_"I do, in my head, many, many times," Dima tells him, and it is almost a confession. "I have always wanted to."_

_Something particularly warm and pleased bursts within Byleth's chest. "Then you shall, whenever you so desire." He turns to the table, intent on setting his gloves down beside Dima's armor. "Do you have any oil?"_

_His face turns a pretty shade of rose. "Um. Yes. Check the cupboard next to the bed?"_

_As Byleth crouches down to rummage for the oil, Dima settles himself upon the bed. His hands fiddle absentmindedly on the hem of his shirt._

_"Found it," Byleth declares, still whisper soft. He waves around a glass bottle in one hand. The contents, only reaching the halfway point of the bottle, slosh around. "Would you please take off your shirt?"_

_Rustling sounds emerge from the direction of the bed. "...Would you like to do it for me?" Byleth does not reply for a beat that drags on too long. "Ah, forget that I asked."_

_Byleth turns and sees the king struggle out of his shirt. It's as if he's fighting with the article of clothing. His head is stuck._

_"Silly," Byleth tells him, and tugs the shirt off of his head as gently as he can. Blond wisps of hair stick out in all directions. It is somewhat embarrassing to see the man peer up at him behind long lashes._

_"...Sorry..." Dima says._

_"Why are you apologizing?" Byleth says. "Lay on your front, please."_

_Fists clench and unclench in the sheets. "But I want to see you."_

_"I'm not going anywhere," Byleth murmurs. He raises one finger to the king's chest and ever so gently, pushes the man down. Dima goes without protest, eye fixated upon Byleth's face. "Turn around."_

_Obediently, Dima turns over._

_His back is littered with scars. Some are old, and almost snow white. Others look significantly more recent, bumpy and dark. What stands out most, however, about his back, is his muscles. Byleth traces them with his hand carefully. "You have been working out a lot," he observed, repeating the motions. _

_"I do my best," Dima says, muffled by a pillow. It is quite possibly the most expensive pillow Byleth has ever laid his eyes on. _

_When Dima's back is relatively warm enough, Byleth pops the cork off of the bottle._

_The sound makes Dima flinch._

_"We do not have to do this," Byleth informs him. _

_Dima shakes his head vigorously upon the pillow. "I want to. I have just... never done this before. I'm nervous."_

_"I promise that I will make you feel good," Byleth says. He pours a generous amount of oil into one hand. Some of the liquid pools from the cracks between his fingers and the cool droplets fall onto Dima's back. The king makes a small sound at the sudden contact. "It may hurt at first. But I will take good care of you."_

_The oil is rubbed between his hands to warm it up. "You always take good care of me," Dima murmurs. There is a thin line of tension in his shoulders. "And... And I trust you to make me feel... good."_

_"I'll begin now," Byleth says._

_"Wait."_

_Byleth quickly pauses. "What is it?"_

_"What about my pants?" Dima asks. _

_"Do you not want to keep them on? Would you like to take them off?"_

_Even with Dima's face turned into the pillow, Byleth can see his ears turn bright, bright red. "I..." _

_He can hear the king swallow._

_"I want you to," he whispers into the pillow. _

_Nodding, Byleth hums. "We can do that part later," Byleth says. "Right now, I want to focus on your back. I'll start now, if you have no other comments."_

_The king says nothing, so Byleth begins to massage the corded line of tension from his shoulders, applying all of the pressure that he can._

_"Does it hurt?" Byleth asks._

_"I can handle it..."_

_So Byleth eases up on the pressure. He focuses his weight onto his back, and works with nimble fingers to relieve any knots. Soon, Dima's quiet grunts turn into softer groans._

_Byleth focuses his hands on the man's hips. His shoulders are so broad, his hips seem quite slim in comparison. There is a sort of power to them as well._

_"O-oh," Dima says. "That feels..."_

_"Good?" Byleth asks. He presses his thumbs into the divot of his lower back, and the king makes a much louder sound._

_"Yes," Dima murmurs. "Are you not going to..."_

_Byleth cannot hear him. He is murmuring into the bed, muffling every word that leaves his lips. _

_"I want you to," Dima says. _

_"Want me to what?"_

_"Lower..."_

_Byleth makes a sound of understanding. "Ah. May I straddle you?"_

_"Hngh," Dima groans, when Byleth's hands dip slightly lower. "Yes, yes, yes. Please."_

_"Shh," Byleth says, kneading his back gently. He keeps up these gentle movements until Dima looks like he's going to fall asleep._

_"By... Byleth?"_

_Byleth has gently slid off of the man's back and onto the side of the bed. "What is it?"_

_"You didn't. Do it. I still want you to."_

_"Do what?" Byleth asks, and then feels the curve of his lip pulling up when he realizes how sleepy Dima is. He must have been really tired. Byleth is quite pleased with himself, to make Dima that sleepy. "It's late. Go to bed."_

_"Okay," Dima mumbles. "May I kiss you?"_

_Byleth leans in as a response and Dima lazily kisses the side of his mouth. _

_"I still want to bed you. Only if you want to, of course," Dima informs him. He promptly falls asleep._

_Wait._

_Wait._

_What?_

.

Remembering that scene makes even Byleth become flustered. Then, he realizes that he has more pressing matters than the embarrassing misunderstandings he has induced.

Byleth doesn't even think before he crawls out of bed, tripping on the sheets as well as Sothis' legs. Stumbling, he wastes a few precious seconds to right himself properly.

Sprinting out of the room, he does not forget to bring his sword. It sings and seems to coo in his grasp.

Just in case.

One glance left, one right. Back to the right, where Sylvain has slipped on the pavement. It had snowed last night, a lazy, light snowfall. The students would have to change into their winter uniforms any day now.

Byleth is faster than him, but Sylvain is fueled by desperation as well as juicy, juicy gossip.

"Sylvain!" Byleth calls.

Sylvain chances a glance behind him and makes a very loud shriek. Students turn. Byleth thinks that he sees Claude and Hilda dying of laughter.

"Don't run from me," Byleth calls out, his nightgown flowing around his ankles. "I just want to talk." His nightgown was very practical. He thought that regular pants were too hot and restrictive. Running after Sylvain was easier too.

If anything, Sylvain only speeds up.

"THEN STOP CHASING ME."

"You were the one who ran first," Byleth responds, frowning. Sylvain skids around the corner leading to the classrooms. 

No.

Absolutely not.

Not if he could help it.

Sylvain reaches the Blue Lions classroom and practically runs through the doors. Byleth nearly runs over a worried looking Ignatz in his haste.

"EVERYONE LISTEN-" Byleth can hear, before the classroom doors close. 

"Are you alright?" Ignatz asks, even though he was the one to nearly be ran over. 

Byleth gives the boy a quick once over. "Fine," he says hastily, and runs into the Blue Lions classroom. Or at least tries to. It feels as if there's a chair or something propped up against the door.

Scoffing, Byleth kicks the door in. It yields immediately, and the chair that was hopelessly keeping it closed skids across the classroom.

"-you guys have to listen to me," Sylvain pleads, eyes bright with mischief. "The professor-"

He is cut off by the loud slam of the doors.

"Professor," Dimitri greets. Then he looks at what he's wearing and his cheeks fill with colour. "Professor!"

Sylvain turns and looks at the Sword of the Creator in Byleth's hands. He gulps both visibly and audibly.

"That is _such_ a cute nightgown, professor," Sylvain says, making a cutesy sort of '_don't kill me_' pose. "Have I ever how mentioned how cute your face is? Or how cute your angry face is?"

"Sylvain," Byleth cuts in. "I am not going to hurt you."

The Blue Lions glance between them as if they were engaging with a particularly engaging sparring match.

"What did he do this time?" Felix demands.

"Do not worry," Byleth says. He raises his blade, using his other hand to run fingers through his hair. "I am just going to silence Sylvain for a bit."

"I'm worried," Sylvain confesses, wide eyes on the sharp gleam of his sword. He is still smirking. "You're not going to permanently silence me, are you?"

"If necessary."

"PROFESSOR."

"Kidding," Byleth says. His tone is so monotone that no one laughs at his obvious joke.

"IF I AM GOING TO DIE I'M JUST GONNA SAY IT," Sylvain yells at the top of his lungs. Byleth is too horrified to stop him. "I FOUND THE PROFESSOR SLEEPING WITH A WOMAN!"

"Syl- Sylvain!" Byleth protests.

Absolute silence.

Then Mercedes breaks it by giggling. Lysithea has covered up her snort unsuccessfully, and Ferdinand is wearing a puzzled expression.

"No way," Ingrid says, face amused. "Are you okay, Sylvain? The professor wouldn't be the type to sleep around."

"I'm serious," Sylvain says, a pout forming on his face. "They were cuddling. Cuddling," he repeats, as if no one had heard him.

"Sylvain, are you sure that you aren't projecting your escapades onto the professor?"

"B-but!" Dimitri exclaims, eyes so wide they're almost all white and mouth agape, "the professor... wouldn't.... with a random stranger! He wouldn't...! Wouldn't, do... that..."

Byleth blinks at the prince. "I know what sex is, Dimitri."

He almost feels bad. Dimitri looks so pale, Byleth worries he'll pass out.

Sylvain suddenly points at him with an accusing finger. "The professor wouldn't run after me if he didn't think I was going to snitch on him!"

The Blue Lions consider this. "That may be true," Annette says carefully. "But are you sure you're not sleep addled?" She's giggling softly.

"I swear I'm not," Sylvain says. "She had green hair and-"

"The professor has green hair," Cyril points out. "Seeing double?"

"No, this theory is hilarious," Caspar cuts in. "Wouldn't that be crazy?"

Flayn looks particularly excited. Her eyes seem to glow. "A love story," she gushes, clapping her hands together.

The Blue Lions soon become an uproar of theorizing students, as if Byleth was not here himself. The man in question sighs. Perhaps he was safe.

As if reading his thoughts, the door bursts open.

"What is happening?"

Sothis has crept into the room, yawning. The Blue Lions fall silent until they spot her. Linhardt's jaw actually falls open. As much as it can for Linhardt, really. He looks more calculating than surprised.

Byleth turns his head to see Sothis wrapping her arms around his waist. She yawns, completely oblivious to Blue Lions' eyes upon her.

Or perhaps she is not that oblivious. Her smile is sharp across her face. "Come back to bed, Byleth." She uses one hand to slowly trace a finger up and down his arm. Byleth thinks that someone is choking. Maybe it's him.

Dimitri quickly looks between the two of them, eyes wide. "No," he gasps.

"I think I'm having a stroke," Sylvain says.

_Sothis,_ Byleth thinks wildly. _Help me._

"Did you forget that you can control time, in your chaotic state!?" Sothis scolds. Her hands are gone from his waist to wag a finger at him. Menacingly. "There's an easy solution to this that you are not seeing."

"Oh, right." Byleth says aloud.

"Do not 'oh right' me!"

The Blue Lions are just straight up gawking at the pair. Byleth wonders what they are thinking. Sothis nods at them. "Sorry, this shall not be our place of meeting. It is nice to see you all properly. All of you are such brats. But you are Byleth's brats. Whatever. Byleth, let us get going. This is not the most ideal way to meet your students."

Dimitri whirls on Byleth. "Professor, what is she talking about?"

But Byleth just nods at him. "See you later," he says, and a rush of vertigo hits him.

He's back in his room. Byleth is sure of his and Sothis' ability, but he checks the sun in the sky first. 

Early morning.

Before Sylvain barges in.

Sothis is yawning. "You were really panicking," Sothis teases. "Are you a moron?! Seriously. How could you forget that you can control time."

"After having these powers so long, I have nearly forgotten."

"Huh? Did you say you wanted me to take them away?"

"...Forgive me."

Sothis huffs, leaning against the back of his bed. "That is precisely what I thought. But really, I thought you would drop dead on the spot. Perhaps the others did not notice, but I totally believed that you would slip right from this mortal realm and into the underworld!"

"Pardon?"

Sothis rolls her eyes. "Hell. The underworld. Whatever you mortals call it."

Byleth is sort of amazed.

"Is hell real?"

With an expression wiped clean of emotion, Sothis purses her lips. "I suppose so. The people of Faerghus believe in a place like hell of the stories. An underworld, I suppose, cold and dark. Where people who die with regrets or ample sins end up."

"...But is it real. Real real?"

The goddess scoffs. "The power of belief is more staggering than you know, Byleth. If enough people believe in something, who is to say that it is not real? All stories and creatures originated from someone. Or somewhere. You have no idea of how much power the tiniest sliver of hope or faith can possess."

"In other words, you will not tell me directly."

She pokes him on the cheek. "There are some things that are not meant to be seen or known by mortals. You shall sleep much more soundly without knowing what lies beneath."

"I have never slept soundly," Byleth talks back, but drops the topic. "You said back in the classroom that you did not want to meet them that way. Got a plan?"

The goddess shrugs. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Eh..." Byleth is very unsatisfied.

"Okay then, genius, tell me how you would introduce me."

Byleth thinks of a very vivid picture of the two of them laughing with the Blue Lions. Sothis thinks that she sees flowers blooming in the background. Were those sparkles, too? They're all skipping in a field of butterflies.

"That's not an introduction."

Byleth imagines introducing Sothis normally, with the Blue Lions welcoming her easily as his long lost relative.

Sothis shrugs the thought away. "Too boring. Can't you think of something more interesting?"

"Listen here-"

The door opens, with a somewhat worried looking Dedue on the other side. "I heard voices, professor-"

Dedue pauses as he looks between the two of them. "Ah."

Byleth does not even want to know what his student is thinking.

The goddess looks to be about two seconds from ripping her hair out. "Honestly, do none of your students know how to knock?!"

Byleth doesn't even need to be asked before he uses a Divine Pulse.

.

They decide to wait four days for the scheduled Divine Revelation. Byleth is honestly quite excited. Perhaps Sothis moreso. She's pacing around their room with a pleased hum. Byleth watches the sky constantly.

When Sothis hums, objects levitate from the floor and flowers bloom from her feet. On the hardwood. Of his room. Indoors. Honestly, Byleth is sort of worried.

Byleth had no idea what she is thinking. She is excited. Too excited, perhaps.

The two of them have decided to keep Sothis in his room. She had informed him that yes, she could leave the body freely and jump back in his head, but the body would obviously collapse and if anyone found a body in Byleth's room or any other room they obviously would not take it to mean that Byleth was harboring the goddess or anything remotely good. And Sothis had no desire to keep running back and forth between the Holy Tomb. She had complained about the students finding more ways to interrupt them.

Sothis had a plan of her own.

That suited Byleth just fine.

Either way, Sothis was always up to something. He might as well see how it went.

So the days pass normally.

Byleth makes up for the fact that he didn't celebrate Ashe's birthday properly. They enjoy tea and tarts, and then admire the light snow that falls somewhere through their second cup. Caspar falls out of the bush as Byleth hands him cat toys. Did they really think he hadn't noticed? For his real gift, he gives the boy a blue scarf. He had found it in town and thought about Ashe and the blue hood peeking out from his jacket.

The boy, cheeks red from under the scarf, thanks Byleth profoundly. He invites Byleth to come look at his cat one day, and Byleth accepts his invitation.

Byleth catches the largest fish that he's ever caught, turns it into a stew for everyone, and then runs back to his room with two bowls. One for himself and for Sothis, of course. He doesn't notice the eyes on his back as he goes. 

She complains that the stew isn't hot enough and lacks salt, but she still kicks Byleth out of the room to make him get her seconds.

The students change into their winter uniforms and rub their hands together to generate some warmth. Byleth pulls the clock over his shoulders and huddles in it. His father calls him to his room and they make and share some hot chocolate. Rather, Byleth has hot chocolate, and his father drinks his liqueur. Somehow, his father has found chocolate flavored alcohol. Byleth had no idea how. He stirs the chocolate inside the pot over the fireplace and decides to invite the students hiding behind their closed door inside for a cup. They all huddle inside, looking relatively embarrassed.

He coaches the students who aren't confident in their spells to melt little piles of snow with a simple fire spell, trying not to grin as they end up fighting with snowballs instead. The rest of the Blue Lions join them soon enough, and Byleth wishes that Sothis was at least here with them, present to watch them fool around.

A small smile has formed on Dimitri's face. Even Felix has stopped to stare. Just as suddenly, Felix is intent on taking the prince down with his snowballs.

Byleth is never hit. Ashe is unsurprisingly the best at it, but Mercedes and Flayn are ruthless as well. Dimitri is outright terrifying with his strength and accuracy combined. Lysithea is cheating, using her magic to throw the snow around. She still loses and pouts when she does.

When Byleth returns, Sothis has a cup of tea waiting for him. It's not perfect. Sothis had much to learn about the art of tea making, but it was still pretty good. The flowers that Sothis had summoned from the ground are still there. They have yet to wilt, even though it is winter.

Byleth chuckles to himself when he realizes they they are zinnia flowers. By the looks of it, Sothis has yet to notice.

They fall asleep in the same bed. Byleth does not dream. He falls asleep to Sothis' hair tickling his nose and her soft breathing.

One day until the Revelation.

.

"We're going man hunting!" Manuela proclaims, one fist raised to the sky in victory.

Byleth and Hanneman both have their heads in their hands.

Byleth had endlessly fussed, but Sothis swore that she would be alright on her own. She had even promised to be good.

Worrisome.

Very, very worrisome.

Hanneman is at the gate, sending them off worriedly. His concerns are all directed to Byleth. "Make sure she doesn't drink too much. Oh, might as well make sure she doesn't drink at all. One drop of alcohol and she's gone!"

Manuela whips an accusing finger at Hanneman's face. "That is quite possibly the worst thing that you have ever said to me. I can hold my liquor, unlike you. You get shitfaced if you even smell alcohol."

"Why, you-"

"Professor!"

It's Dimitri, Dedue, and Sylvain. He smiles at Byleth, and Byleth returns the expression with a nod. They were probably returning from training. From the looks of it, Sylvain was roped into it as well. "Hello," Byleth greets. "It's almost curfew."

"Well," Dimitri begins, and then cuts himself off, and then starts again. "Well, uh..."

Byleth glances down at his outfit, discerning what Dimitri was staring at. "Ah. Well, Manuela refused to let me out with her if I wore my armor. Which I was fine with."

"But professor...." she whines in protest.

In horror, Byleth remembers Manuela barging into his room and rummaging through his drawers, throwing teas and gloves everywhere until she had found an outfit that was not meant for battle. Even then she had found it quite basic.

Sothis had quite literally leapt from the window so as to not be seen.

Black trousers, slim and fit to his legs. A black button up, with gold trim and tiny gold buttons. Shiny black shoes. Gold cufflinks. A golden earring, that Byleth hadn't worn in years. Manuela had forced him into a chair and revealed a jar of some sort of gel, and frantically worked his hair until it had a stylish poof to it.

His entire wardrobe was all black, much to Manuela's dismay. He liked it like that. Blood stains and dirt did not show up as much on black clothing.

Byleth had dressed himself in the outfit after kicking Manuela from his room, but refused to compromise on his cape. Manuela reluctantly agreed, then heartily agreed when he put it on. Apparently he 'made it work.'

"I hate dressing up," Byleth says vehemently.

Sylvain whistles lowly. "You should dress up more. You look good!"

Byleth nods. "Thank you. Shall we get going?"

"Where are you going?" Dedue asks. "Shall we accompany you?"

Manuela hooks an arm around one of Byleth's and shakes her head. "We're going for drinks!" Manuela exclaims. "And you should be going to bed. It's almost curfew!"

"They're going 'man hunting,'" Hanneman says, scoffing. "I can't believe that she has the nerve to drag the new professor into this... Unbelievable."

Dimitri stares. "You're what?"

.

"No," Byleth says.

"You could be a little more nicer to the ones that you reject," Manuela scolds him. She is already flushing from the alcohol, one hand on her chin. "Be honest, but not mean."

Later, a woman with light brown hair and blue eyes tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as she taps Byleth's shoulder. "U-um. I would love to... get to know you better!"

_Be honest, but not mean,_ Byleth briefly thinks to himself.

"I could never be interested in you," Byleth says, and then frowns. Perhaps that was too blunt. "But you have nice eyes." There. Honest but not mean.

The woman sputters and practically runs off.

When Byleth turns to face Manuela, she's got her head in her hands.

"What?" Byleth asks. "This is what you asked me to do."

"Absolutely not," she snaps. Byleth eyes the empty jugs taking up their entire table. They had been there for a while, and Manuela had already gone through a worrying amount of alcohol. Byleth refused to 'man hunt,' so he had stayed at a table and watched Manuela's back for any suspicious individuals that would take advantage of her.

Sometimes people had walked up to him to... proposition him. Byleth did not really care for their offers, so he had turned them down, much to Manuela's dismay.

"Another one!" Manuela calls to the barkeep. Byleth shakes his head and shares a look with the staff. They fill her jug with water instead, and she sighs.

"Boooooooring," Manuela whines. She turns her hazy focus onto Byleth. "Hey, are you sure you don't want to just run off with that woman that asked you to?"

"Which one?"

Manuela whistles. "You're a womanizer in the making," she tells him.

Byleth frowns, eyeing his own jug. He still cannot feel the effects of alcohol, and had switched to water. "You know I didn't mean it like that."

She sticks out her tongue at him. Even though she had protested against the water, she now downs it in one gulp. Byleth watches as she wipes at her mouth with one hand.

"I actually also invited you because I want to rant," Manuela admits. Byleth opens his mouth, but she immediately cuts in. "Before you say anything, I didn't want to say it to Hanneman. He's an idiot. I just want to rant."

A deep breath.

Byleth waits patiently.

Manuela lays her head down on the table, her finger tracing lazy circles on the condensation of her mug. "I feel as if my students don't trust me. Edelgard and Hubert leave the academy so often. They refuse to let me in when I ask to visit Hubert. Edelgard is restless during any of our missions. I know they sneak out during the free days, and in the middle of the night. I want to stop them, but I... I'm just a coward. They're probably not doing anything wrong... But I.... I don't know. I just have a gut feeling that they're doing something bad."

Finally, she looks up from the uneven table. "Am I crazy for thinking that?"

Byleth stares at her blankly.

He has a very, very bad idea.

And Sothis isn't around to stop him.

.

Sothis slips out of Byleth's room quietly, his fishing rod in one hand. She did say that she would be good in his absence, as if she were a child to be coddled and was left alone in the house for the first time. How arrogant!

She was an adult. In fact, she was years and years older than him! Sothis knew how to take care of herself. She had no use for his fussing. 

Privately, Sothis is quite fond of his worrying. It has been a very long time since she has been worried about like this. Obviously, she would never let him know.

As gently and as quietly as possible, Sothis closes the door behind her and stills when the long end of the fishing rod taps the door lightly as it sways. Dedue doesn't come running from his room, so Sothis believes that she is in the clear and heads towards the pond.

What in the world did Byleth find so appealing about fishing?

Sothis wondered if there was a single person that enjoyed fishing as much as he did. She knew that he took great pride in stringing the rod, and using the correct bait. She was aware of his silent, hidden glee whenever he caught a new or rare fish and was able to cook it up.

That boy. Honestly. Sothis could practically hear him thinking to himself the best ways to fry or stew a fish. 

She doesn't need light like he does, so she casts her line without difficulty.

Kicking her legs into the water, she hums to herself. That Annette girl was always singing about tummy tummy tums, or something. It was catchy. Sothis murmurs the lyrics to herself.

There is an appeal to catching a fish by yourself. Sothis is quite proud, although the fish is smaller in size.

Sothis places the fish into the nearby bucket and listens to it jump around, clattering against the sides of the bucket.

The goddess sighs. "You know," she says, still looking out into the pond, "I'm not going to be leaving anytime soon. Come out or I will come to you."

A pause.

Out from the shadows slinks two pairs of footsteps. They're barely audible. Sothis would be impressed, if she didn't know who they were.

"It's quite late," Sothis says, a lilt to her voice. "Little children must hurry off to bed."

"Trespassers are not allowed on the properties," a voice says. Sothis almost smiles.

Almost.

Another sigh leaving her lips, Sothis places the fishing rod back down onto the dock. "Don't you have a curfew? Sneaking out is breaking the rules. I may just tell someone."

No one speaks.

"You are trespassing," the voice repeats.

"I don't believe that I am," Sothis says. "Byleth said that I had to be good... for now. So I'll let this slide. Hurry and leave. Besides. You two are the ones trespassing, anyway. You and I both know that you're trying to sneak out without anyone's notice. Unfortunately for you, I won't be leaving any time soon."

Nothing. No reaction. 

She feels as if they'll warp away soon. She does not know why they have yet to warp, but it works in her favor. Sothis needs to keep them here.

Sothis cannot keep the amusement out of her tone. "How is the hand, Hubert?"

Magic flares through the air and Sothis grins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU KNOW WHAT'S REALLY WILD. GARREG MACH DOESN'T HAVE LIKE. SEASONS. ACTUALLY THERE'S EMO SEASON AS SOON AS THE MUSIC CHANGES BUT LIKE. YOU KNOW. give them weather omg 
> 
> the winter uniforms are just the dlc ones u know the really cool ones aaaaa. AND ALSO YES. BYLETH IN A NIGHTGOWN DON'T TOUCH ME
> 
> i totally didn't mean to make that first scene almost 2000 words but ehahhahsjjajsjs
> 
> thank you so very much for reading! ♡
> 
> byleth/dimitri B rank  
byleth/dedue C+ rank  
byleth/felix B rank  
byleth/annette C+ rank  
byleth/ingrid C+ rank  
byleth/sylvain B rank  
byleth/mercedes C+ rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt C+ rank  
byleth/ferdinand C+ rank  
byleth/lysithea C+ rank  
byleth/cyril C rank  
byleth/flayn C+ rank  
byleth/caspar C rank  
byleth/dorothea C rank
> 
> byleth/jeritza C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/sothis A rank  
byleth/claude C rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea C+ rank


	28. the beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS IT
> 
> THIS IS THE CHAPTER IM SERIOUS THIS IS WHAT YOU AND I HAVE BEEN DESPERATELY WAITING FOR FOREVER NOTHING HAPPENS IN GODSPEED RIGHT? BUT IF IT DIDN'T WE WOULDNT BE HERE RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW
> 
> fun fact! this chapter was meant to be 10k! but i really do think that it would be more fun if i cut it in half. :)))))))
> 
> i can't keep u waiting! go on. this is the one.

Obviously, Hubert does not cast a weak spell, even now. Sothis understands rage being one's fuel and drive. Spite especially more so.

Most likely, he is using the hand that Sothis did not chop off. Well, it is not as if Sothis expected otherwise.

Sothis leaps into a crouch and backflips over the spell, landing on both feet and standing. She does not make a sound as she touches the floor. "How mean," she simpers. "I don't want to fight you."

_Not right now, anyway. Byleth would find out, and be upset. That would be very bothersome._

Hubert does not let up. One spell after another is flung at her head. She can feel the surge of power with each spell cast, feel his cool rage. 

Left, right. Right, right. Left. Right, left, right. Sothis feels as if she's dodging punches rather than magic. They're all violent bursts and angry bouts of power. She's more amused than anything- Sothis has never seen Hubert show his hand unless Edelgard had commanded it so.

Interestingly enough, Edelgard remains silent. Sothis regards her with narrowing eyes. Both of them were really annoying. And Sothis did not even want to fight them today. She had genuinely wanted to fish.

The goddess sighs.

"Sorry, I do not have time to play with you," Sothis says. "Lucky you. Congratulations on living another day."

Hubert charges at her.

For a moment, Sothis allows it, wondering about his plan. Did he really expect her to just let him charge her?

Sothis snaps her fingers, and the two of them fall to the ground, fast asleep. 

With a laugh, Sothis stretches, her shoulders pop. With lazy movements, she rolls her neck around, the cracks immensely satisfying to her ears.

"It feels so good to be back," Sothis muses, sparks dancing around her fingertips. She had missed the feeling of having power that belonged to her and her alone. And anyway, she had always preferred raw magic compared to the blade of a sword. "I wonder what the limits of this body are."

She walks towards Edelgard and Hubert's bodies and crouches down.

"Fascinating," Sothis comments, lifting Hubert's newly reattached hand. She looks at it from all angles with a clinical eye. Everything seems to be in order. "Hardly a seam! How did Seiros learn to do this?"

Sothis sighs, tilting her head up to the night skies. There was so much that she had missed. She was excited to learn all of the changes Fódlan had undergone.

Sifting through Byleth's memories was both amazing but also unsatisfying. Byleth had traveled to many places as a mercenary, had seen all manner of folk and culture. Different recipes, new types of song and dance, as well as new spells- the world was wide and vast and Sothis had deemed it good. Every single individual Byleth had encountered were special in their own way.

But there was also poverty. Murder and famine, disease and drought. Byleth, whose first kill was at too young an age, and many more children like him. Learning to kill before learning to read. Learning to steal before learning to smile. Sothis was heartbroken. The church was doing its part, but it was not enough. 

It would never be enough.

_I weighed the victims of the war against the victims of the world as it is now, and I chose the former. I weighed the victims of the war against the victims of the world as it is now, and I chose the former. I weighed the victims of the war against the victims of the world as it is- _

Sothis regards the girl with a displeased expression.

"How vile," the goddess says. "Never have I met an individual which was so self-absorbed that they could not see their own boot upon another mortal's face."

The goddess sighs. "Perhaps I should pass divine judgement upon you," she continues, contemplative. She moves from Hubert's sleeping body to Edelgard's and places a hand upon her forehead.

A moment passes.

"I see," Sothis murmurs, glancing at her hair, white as snow. "How terrible. How ironic. You and Seiros have had the same enemy, and yet look at you now."

Sothis stands, brushing dust and dirt from her dress, and thinks. Her fists clench.

She could kill them.

Right now.

It would be so easy. Sothis could wipe the world of their memory. Of their existence. Gone, within a blink. Byleth would never know. Byleth would lose the bags under his eyes, the new crease in his brow. He would return and it would be as if the world was lifted from his shoulders.

Edelgard would never declare war. Byleth would never fall into that chasm, and sleep for five years, his body desperately attempting to mend itself. Byleth would not be parted from his Dima, nor lose his father, nor spend his days planning around death.

Sothis can see it now. Sothis can make it happen, now. Sothis can kill them now, and their bodies could feed their zinnia flowers and be much more useful than they ever were alive. 

Sothis would be the only one who knew of their disappearance. Good riddance, she would think, and never think about those eyesores ever again.

Byleth would return, and smile. A real one, too, unknowing of the pain and strife that would have fallen upon him.

Good riddance.

Good riddance! And goodbye!

_Byleth ducks out of the door, frowns, and then turns towards Sothis. "Be good," he had said, with a tiny smile._

Sothis lowers her fist.

She claps her hands together. Edelgard and Hubert's memories disappear first. Next, they too disappear, warped to their rooms. Sothis does not bother to tuck them into bed.

The goddess stomps all the way back to Byleth's room.

.

"I'm from the future-"

"Byleeeeeeth," Manuela slurs. "You drank too much. Come ooooooon. Sober up? Have some water! Goddess, you are drunk! Right now!"

"Manuela-"

"Byleeeth..."

Manuela pushes the jug of water towards him so hard that it spills onto the table and splashes onto his shirt. Byleth huffs. "I'm taking you back." Byleth places money on the table to pay for their drinks with a frown. "You drank too much."

"You can't take me," Manuela protests. "You're maaaaaried. Cannot relate. Married people... PISS me off!" She jostles the table and some of the water on the table slides onto his lap. 

Good thing Byleth's clothes are black.

At these moments, Byleth is very appreciative of his blank face.

Byleth counts the amount of glasses on their table and nods to himself. "I'll take you back now."

After making sure Manuela is tucked gently underneath her bed sheets, he heads off to his room.

Maybe it was for the best that she had adamantly refused all of Byleth's attempts to tell her that he was from the future. Who knows what Manuela would have done were she to find out. The most likely scenario was that she would laugh it off, call him delusional, and then forget all about it.

Sothis really was all of his impulse control. 

Byleth walks into his room to find Sothis lying facedown on the bed, taking up all of the room. Face blank, Byleth pushes her towards the wall and joins her. Distantly, he is aware that he should change into his nightgown, but he would rather sleep. 

.

"Today's the day," Sothis says, poking Byleth's cheeks before sending him off to the dining hall. "Stay vigilant. We have multiple tries, but do not get cocky. Remember, that Metodey boy and the Flame Emperor may appear."

"Hello," Seteth greets. He is parading the grounds, looking sleepy. "Today is the day of the Divine Revelation, as I am sure that you are very aware of. I trust you will act in a respectful manner."

The man that works at the dock of the fishing pier waves at him. "Isn't it today? Good luck! I hope that you get to speak with the goddess!"

A couple of giggling nuns walk past Byleth, fervently and excitedly whispering to one another. They are unsuccessfully hiding little smiles behind their hands. "Look, that is the professor that shall speak to the goddess today!"

"Today is the day," his father tells him solemnly, behind him in the line for breakfast. Then he leans in close to whisper. "Let me know if anything goes wrong."

Byleth piles about six pancakes, sliced ham, and green grapes onto his plate before attempting to run out of the dining hall. He really needs to plan with Sothis before they head down into the Holy Tomb. 

There is an absent thought poking at his head. Sothis was still with him, in this time. If he really did sit on the throne, and Sothis was not in her own body, what would happen to him?

He's honestly curious. Maybe he would try it out with her at a later time. Maybe they would turn into a dragon-

"Hey, professor!" Ferdinand calls. Byleth slowly turns to see the Blue Lions staring right at him, some of them waving. "Did you not notice us? We are right here! Please join us!"

In the face of his expectant students, Byleth can do nothing but slowly walk over, silently cursing in his head. "Good morning, professor. Today is the day of the Revelation! Are you nervous? Don't worry, we shall be at your side."

Byleth takes a seat next to Annette at the end of the table and pours a generous amount of syrup onto his pancakes. If they land on his grapes and ham that will only enhance the flavor. Cutting a giant piece off of his pancakes, he busies himself by listening to their conversations. 

"What sort of Revelation do you suppose that the professor will receive from the goddess?" Mercedes asks, her expression bright and cheerful. That made one of them, he supposes. "I think the goddess may tell him to continue to be a professor here."

"Maybe he will be appointed as a knight," Ashe muses. Ingrid nods around her mouthful of food at his statement. "The future king's personal knight- or something along those lines. Either way, I am excited! Can you believe that someone we know might be able to talk to the goddess!? That's so incredible, professor."

Dimitri ducks his head to hide a smile that everyone at the table notices.

Caspar shrugs. "I don't get the big deal," Caspar admits, spitting out little speckles of spit and food. "Who cares?"

"But no one has had a Revelation in years," Lysithea insists. "I am not really of faith, but it is sure to be interesting. Right, Cyril?"

The boy in question makes a sound that is neither of approval nor disagreement. "I don't care. If it makes Lady Rhea happy, then the professor can have as many Revelations as he desires."

"What do you think, professor?" Annette asks, through a mouthful of strawberries. "Do you have any idea as to what the goddess will ask you to do?"

Byleth stares down at his plate. "Bring her pancakes," he replies, solemn. He is very serious. She did ask him to do so, after all. "With extra syrup. And grapes, too. Maybe some ham."

The Blue Lions laugh and Byleth tries to feel light despite the fact that Sothis would be cross if he did not bring her breakfast. She did have a body now, after all, and wanted to experience all sorts of varying flavors.

"That's right," Dimitri suddenly says. "You told me when we first met that you had no idea about the existence of the Church of Seiros nor the goddess. Perhaps this does not mean much to you, but know that many people have been wondering when the goddess will next deign to speak to anyone."

Byleth thinks about Sothis demanding that he bring her some orange juice, too. "I see," he says carefully, and says nothing more on the matter.

.

"How are we going to do this?" Byleth asks, as Sothis smooths out her dress.

"I am going to go to the Holy Tomb ahead of time," she says, "and then we shall adjust, revise, and use Divine Pulses from there. On the first try, maybe we should try the scenario where I step out from behind the throne. It seems as if it is the most simple and straightforward."

Byleth nods in agreement, then frowns. "You're not going to turn into a dragon?" Byleth says, a little upset. "I feel as if that one is the most simple and straightforward way to prove that you are the goddess."

She rolls her eyes at him. "I'll meet you there," she grins, and takes off. Byleth watches for any incoming students, but no one appears to surprise them or ruin their plans. To be quite frank, Byleth was absolutely expecting Linhardt to appear from a corner or a bush and point at them, loudly declaring 'ha!' or something along those lines. 

Sothis does not run back to him, demanding that he uses a pulse, so Byleth assumes that the coast is clear and decides to meet up with his students now. They wave when Byleth is in sight.

"A revelation from the goddess..." Dimitri muses, an expectant look on his face. "To think that we will have the honor of attending such a historical event. I am a little excited to see what happens!"

Dedue nods. "I hear that the Archbishop will accompany us to the Holy Tomb."

"If something happens to her, all of Fódlan will suffer," Ingrid cuts in, pumping a fist in the air. "We must protect her at all costs!"

Byleth tilts his head to one side. "Worried that something may go wrong, Ingrid?" She was not off the mark in the slightest. Soon, they would likely face the Flame Emperor once more.

To be honest, Byleth was looking forward to it. He had been looking for some sort of action and excitement.

The prince shakes his head. "This may sound mad, but perhaps we do not have to worry so much about that. Lady Rhea has said before that she is capable of protecting herself, if need be. I have a feeling that is true."

Nodding in agreement, Byleth glances over at Dimitri. He has a hand to his chin. "She seems very strong," Byleth agrees, reminiscing upon the moment she had transformed into a grand dragon. 

"I did think it was a strange thing for her to say," Dimitri continues, thoughtful. "And beyond that, her movements bring to mind a great warrior with an extensive military background."

"Very observant, Dimitri," Byleth compliments. "I have thought the same."

Not so much thought as experienced, really. Her might as a dragon, the ease she had presented herself with when fighting off the Western Church alongside Catherine- Rhea was a warrior, through and through. Byleth would love to test her might one of these days.

"Thank you, professor," Dimitri says, looking quite pleased. "Mind, it's also possible that I am way off track. Regardless, perhaps we should brace ourselves for anything. The matter of someone receiving a Revelation is no small matter."

Ashe looks content himself. "I have never imagined attending a ceremony for a real Revelation..." 

"I wonder what the ceremony will be like," Mercedes says softly, her hands clasped together as if in prayer. "I'm so nervous! I am really not ready for this!"

Felix is the only one who does not look even slightly pleased. "There's no chance for battle unless something goes terribly wrong, right? How boring?"

"We can spar after?" Byleth offers, knowing full well his wishes would be fulfilled either way.

"Hey, Felix," Sylvain cuts in, "if you keep saying things like that, something bad is definitely bound to happen."

"Hmm...."

Annette turns to the source of the sound. "Hm? What's the matter, Flayn? You look like you have something on your mind."

Flayn is looking at Byleth as though her eyes could pierce through him. Then, she looks away. "Who, me?" Flayn replies, looking as if she was deep in thought. "No, it is nothing. May we all see this through to the end."

No one says anything for a moment. Dedue cuts the silence. "Your Highness, I will protect you no matter what happens." 

No answer. 

"Your Highness? What is the matter?"

Byleth looks at the prince carefully. As he remembers from his last life, the Divine Revelation was when Dimitri found out who the Flame Emperor really was, and in turn, was lost to every other thought but revenge in that moment.

_ **Is this some kind of TWISTED JOKE!?** _

Shaking his head ever so slightly, Byleth attempts to banish the memory from his head. "Dimitri?" Byleth prompts carefully. "Dimitri, recently, have you not been feeling well?"

It takes a moment for the words to register in Dimitri's head. "I... I have not been sleeping well recently. And my head... my head aches. But no need to worry. Let us focus on the task at hand."

"No," Byleth says. The Blue Lions all stare at him. "No. I shall worry. I am sending you to Manuela as soon as this is over."

"Really, professor, I will be fine..."

Byleth shakes his head. "I am absolutely capable of dragging you to the infirmary," Byleth replies, blank. "Do not test me."

Dimitri and Byleth share a heated stare. On this matter, Byleth refuses to bend. Absolutely not. Byleth would make Dimitri talk to a physician in this life or die trying.

"Professor?" Rhea interrupts. She has appeared suddenly from a corner. "It is time."

Dimitri is actually the first to look away. Satisfied, Byleth nods. "We shall be right there with you."

.

"Are you surprised, professor?" Rhea asks, looking over at him with an almost eager expression. "This is the Holy Tomb."

She gestures at the large area, washed in a pale green light with a flourish. The Blue Lions look astounded.

"I am so very surprised," Byleth lies like a liar, attempting to put more emotion into his words and in his face. "This place sure is a place that I have never been inside of ever, in my life. Very green. Yes."

He can practically hear Sothis yelling at him.

"Incredible," Dimitri says, staring up at the ceiling. "To think... that such a large and vast space has been hiding under the monastery all this time... I wonder what powers that giant mechanism that descends beneath the ground!"

They had been taken into a room which had glided underneath the layers of earth separating the Holy Tomb from the monastery. Byleth had done his very best to look surprised and shocked, which was likely a terrible job, but it was his effort that truly mattered.

Linhardt had opened his mouth to say something, but Byleth had given him a look that had snapped it shut. He is still doing just that, waiting for a chance in which Byleth is momentarily distracted and and will look away, but Byleth will not compromise this moment because of Linhardt.

Rhea guides them up the stairs to the throne and seems as if she is floating up them. Mercedes certainly is. She seems to not want to climb all of the steps. 

"This is where the goddess who created this world was laid to rest, along with her children." Rhea dutifully explains as they walk, tilting her head to point at their surroundings. 

They come face to face with the throne. Byleth thinks that it looks rather intimidating at the moment, although he has never thought of a chair- or this chair in particular, as such.

"It is said that our creator- the goddess Sothis- sat upon this very throne," Rhea says softly. She turns towards Byleth with a brilliant smile. "Professor... Do you recognize this throne?"

He hesitates.

"I do," Byleth says, ignoring the way the Blue Lions stare at him. "Yes, I do."

Rhea makes a small sound. "So long... I have waited, so, so very long for this day. Sit upon the throne. I have no doubt that you will be gifted a Revelation from the goddess herself."

Byleth steps forward, but does not make any move to sit. He pauses, and tries to peer around the throne without moving too much, to little to no success.

"Professor?" Rhea asks, sounding a little impatient. "What is the delay? Please, do not be nervous."

"I'm not," Byleth says. "Sothis, come out already."

"What?" Rhea asks, then gasps when Sothis ducks out from behind the throne.

The goddess steps outside the shadow of the throne, back stretched towards the heavens. She tucks one strand of hair behind her ears and looks up at Byleth behind long, green lashes, then, at each and every one of the people gathered to bask in her glory.

"It cannot be," Rhea murmurs, breathless.

A moment's pause. 

"Ta da," Byleth says, gesturing towards Sothis.

"Byleth!" Sothis shrieks, her demure character cracking in two. "You ruined it!"

Byleth stares. "How in the world did I ruin it?!"

Sothis makes wild gestures with her hands, making big movements. "I was supposed to, you know, look all serious and awesome, you know?" The goddess sighs, long suffering and sad. "Redo. We must do this again. Byleth, use a Divine Pulse."

Byleth stares.

"Please," Sothis adds, looking as if she is desperately attempting not to roll her eyes.

"Fine," Byleth says, with a huff.

Dimitri and the rest of the Blue Lions are gawking at the bickering pair. "Professor, what in the world is going on? Who is this?"

Rhea has a hand over her mouth, eyes wider than Byleth has ever seen them. She looks as if she is about to pass out, as she sinks to the floor.

Byleth does not know what to say, so he uses a Divine Pulse instead of responding. 

.

"Come out," Byleth implores.

The goddess steps outside the shadow of the throne, back stretched towards the heavens. She tucks one strand of hair behind her ears and looks up at Byleth behind long, green lashes, then, at each and every one of the people gathered to bask in her glory.

"It cannot be," Rhea gasps, unknowingly repeating her words from before. Byleth says nothing.

A moment's pause, again.

"Byleth?" Sothis asks, voice feather soft.

He nods in response, not replying aloud.

"What should I say?"

Byleth wants to groan. "Sothis, come on. Shouldn't you have thought of that before?"

"Well, I am sooooooory that presenting myself as the once dead goddess of this world makes me forget what I was meant to say!" Sothis snaps.

Byleth huffs to himself as the Blue Lions stare between them, looking as if they had witnessed them both grow two heads.

"Okay, maybe next time sit on the throne," Byleth offers. "And then say that you are the goddess. It will take less time and will stop the awkwardness of stepping out."

"Professor, what-"

"Sorry," Byleth says simply. "One more time."

.

The goddess is sitting upon the throne, back stretched towards the heavens. She tucks one strand of hair behind her ears and looks up at Byleth behind long, green lashes, then, at each and every one of the people gathered to bask in her glory. 

Byleth cannot help himself. "Guess who."

"BYLETH." 

"I am sorry, but that was hilarious." Byleth tells her, monotone. The smug quirk of his lips betray him.

"Maybe for you!" Sothis snaps.

.

Once again, the goddess is sitting upon the throne, back stretched towards the heavens. She tucks one strand of hair behind her ears and looks up at Byleth behind long, green lashes, then, at each and every one of the people gathered to bask in her glory.

Everything was going perfectly. Byleth had not said a word, and Sothis' serious demeanor had not cracked.

"I just realized that we still have not planned what I should say," Sothis mutters, and Byleth slaps at his forehead. "Maybe I really should turn into a dragon."

"Sothis," Byleth says, voice lacking any emotion. "I absolutely told you so."

"Oh, shut up already."

.

Sothis does not turn into a dragon. Instead she leans back on Byleth's bed and groans very, very loudly. Byleth and Sothis plot for an hour in his room and decide on a speech.

Byleth runs out to invite his father, and discuss what, exactly, Sothis could possibly say to both Rhea and his students.

It's a wonderful speech. Not because of Byleth, who has never been good with words, but because of his father. Jeralt takes a moment to look at Sothis, who he has never seen in that body, and looks away.

The speech is a magnificent mix of nonsensical, pious jargon and absolute nothingness. It is perfect.

Byleth and Sothis bump fists.

Once again again... again, the goddess is sitting upon the throne, back stretched towards the heavens. She tucks one strand of hair behind her ears and looks up at Byleth behind long, green lashes, then, at each and every one of the people gathered to bask in her glory. She is somehow more serene this time, as if her body itself was glowing with a soft light. 

Byleth has always been aware that Sothis was absolutely not human, but looking at her now in that dress and upon that throne makes her seem ethereal.

No longer Sothis, but the goddess herself, seated before their very eyes.

"It cannot be," Rhea murmurs, breathless.

A moment's pause.

Byleth watches Sothis swallow and he bites down on his lower lip, uncharacteristically nervous and shaken.

Sothis catches his eye.

"Forgive me," Sothis begins. "I did have much to say to you all. But at the sight of you now, I have forgotten it."

The goddess turns her head to look at Rhea, and her lips curve up. "Hello, Seiros. It has been a very, very long time. I have missed you dearly."

Rhea- _Seiros, what-_ gasps and sinks to the floor, hand over her lips. She's gasping, and sobbing, and her eyes never leave Sothis' face. "It cannot be," Rhea sobs, as tears trickle down her face. Byleth and Blue Lions are stricken at the sight of such emotion, from Rhea of all people. "It cannot be..."

"Wipe those tears," Sothis murmurs, and Rhea hurries to obey. "Even after all this time, you are still very much a crybaby, huh?"

"I- I am-" Rhea gasps, incoherent. Her pale face is a bright red, flushed with emotion. "I... I just-"

"Hey, what the hell is going on here?" Felix demands, suddenly impatient as he glances between Byleth, Sothis, and Rhea. "Who is that woman, professor?"

Dimitri looks equally surprised. "I am just as curious, professor- Halt! Who goes there! Reveal yourself!"

The prince whirls around, lifting his lance at the sudden intruders. All eyes turn below, to the loud footsteps.

That man from his past life laughs as he if he had found something particularly amusing about this situation. He looks like a raccoon to Byleth. Maybe his name was Metodey? It started with an M, likely. 

"Don't move, any of you!" Metodey calls out, smirking. His face warps into ugly, crooked lines. "If you move, your lives will be forfeit!"

Byleth glances subtly at Sothis, who looks back with an unreadable expression. 

He wants to grin.

"Thank you ever so much for guiding us this far," Metodey sneers, his voice a screeching drawl. "The Imperial army shall now take possession of everything in the Holy Tomb!"

Rhea has stood, already wiping herself of any vulnerability she had ever shown on her visage. "How dare you!"

"Why is the Imperial army here?" Dedue asks, face twisting into a scowl. 

"This cannot be..." Ingrid says, eyes wide. "How did you all get into Garreg Mach?"

"Even the Flame Emperor is here..." Sylvain trails off, frowning. "That can only mean one thing..."

"The Flame Emperor is connected to the Empire," Felix says slowly, a little grin on his face. "What do you know. I suppose we must take him down now."

The Blue Lions have not experienced Remire village in this life, so Byleth is not expecting the same rage coloring Dimitri's face when he chances a look at the prince. 

"What nerve," Dimitri spits, fists clenched at his sides. The lance in one of his hands has splintered around his grip. "What are you after, Flame Emperor?"

"Is it not obvious?" 

The Flame Emperor points at Sothis, sitting leisurely on her throne. She has her chin in one hand, and she yawns when the Flame Emperor points at her. Byleth thinks that he can see the Flame Emperor twitch. "Power. The power to rule all of Fódlan. The Holy Tomb contains that power."

"This is a resting place," Dimitri spits, a shadow passing over his face. "And to attain that power, you will trample anything that stands in your way. I should have known that you would not hesitate to desecrate the dead as well as the living! I will not allow you to take a single step towards us nor what you are after!"

"Calm yourself, princeling."

Byleth is surprised when Sothis speaks. She yawns, stretches lightly, and then stands lazily from her throne, looking sleep addled. She never looks away from Edelgard. "I can see right through your mask," Sothis says, suddenly alert, "emperor of delusion."

The goddess' eyes _glow._

"Quickly," the Flame Emperor commands, "retrieve the Crest Stones! Kill for them, if you must!"

"Those are the bodies of my people," Sothis snarls. She nods at Byleth, and raises one hand to the sky. The Sword of the Creator- _her_ sword, flies into her grip from Byleth's side. "It seems as if you desire to join them."

_Sothis._

_ **Trust me.** _

Very, very slowly, Sothis points a finger at the soldier standing next to Metodey.

She has never looked so amused.

Sothis mouths something.

Byleth doesn't even blink.

The sword has flown from her hands and inserted itself into that soldier's chest, as well as the two soldier behind him, with a sickeningly wet sound. 

The goddess raises her hand to the heavens, and her sword shoots back into her hands. She shoots Byleth a grin as she jumps from the tall flight of stairs-

And lands safely below, the ground cracking beneath her feet. A surge of powerful energy has knocked the closest soldiers down, their skulls cracking against the stone. They do not rise. Metodey is frozen in place, jaw practically on the floor. The Flame Emperor does not move a muscle.

"Come, Byleth!" Sothis calls. Byleth cannot help his elated expression as the goddess warps him to her side. 

The goddess snaps her fingers, and a replica of the Sword of the Creator appears in Byleth's hands. Sothis was _so cool._

Sothis points her sword at the Imperial soldiers, standing tall. It seems as if the heavens rest on her shoulders as she smiles. Her sword casts an unearthly glow upon her face. "I am Sothis, the goddess of this mortal realm! Arbiter of souls, the progenitor god, creator of life. I am the beginning, and your end!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOMETIMES U CAN TRUST ME.
> 
> literally i have had sothis' last line in my drafts FOREVER I WAS SO EXCITED TO USE IT IM JUMPING UP AND DOWN GOSH AAAAAAAAAAA
> 
> well, what does this mean for the story? well. obviously the world will notice if the goddess returns. royalty and the rats below. yes i was alluding to the ashen wolves just then. yes they are coming. yes they are coming real soon LIKE REALLY SOON IM SERIOUSLY SERIOUS
> 
> OKAY I FUCKING. I LOVE YURI SO MUCH HE'S JUST GSWJWGJWHAISHSJSHJAYSJSUSH SWOON Y'ALREADY KNOW HE'S PURBLE AND PRETTY AND SNARKY AND I FELL FOR HIM AS SOON AS HE OPENED HIS MOUTH 
> 
> OKAY BACK TO GODSPEED EGWHAHAUAUAGSHS IM SOOOOO HAPPY WE ARE HERE AND I HOPE U ARE TOO. LOVE YOU LONG TIME HOLY FUCK WE ARE HERE!!!!!!!!! ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
> 
> on an entirely different note, i have a twitter! i dont fucking use it at all cause idk how twitter works but if u don't know how tumblr works im also on twitter if u wanna yell at me! ehshsshhshss
> 
> thank you so very much for reading! ♡
> 
> byleth/dimitri B rank  
byleth/dedue C+ rank  
byleth/felix B rank  
byleth/annette C+ rank  
byleth/ingrid C+ rank  
byleth/sylvain B rank  
byleth/mercedes C+ rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt C+ rank  
byleth/ferdinand C+ rank  
byleth/lysithea C+ rank  
byleth/cyril C rank  
byleth/flayn C+ rank  
byleth/caspar C rank  
byleth/dorothea C rank
> 
> byleth/jeritza C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/sothis A rank  
byleth/claude C rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea C+ rank


	29. forever blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone! welcome back ♡
> 
> just a quick comment- if you are unsatisfied with this fic because x happens or x has yet to happen or x is implied, u dont have to read my fic lol. im sure there are plenty of other fics out there that will satisfy you!
> 
> OKAY AAAAAAAAA. HOLY FUCKIN SHIT WE HIT OVER 4000 KUDOS AAAAAAAA THANK U SO MUCH GUYS U HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT MEANS TO ME. thank u. from the bottom of my heart. thank u
> 
> dhhshahshsh im really happy guys liked that last line from sothis last chapter hshahshaha

_"I am so glad that you are my son, kid. Never change. You are my..."_

An imperial soldier hits the floor and gags on their own blood, convulsing and twitching on the floor. No move is made to stand up.

_"You must know that I am always with you, Byleth. Never forget that I dwell within your heart. You, of all people, are..."_

Two more drop to their knees, impaled together with Byleth's sword. He rips it from their chests and they barely have the strength to scream.

_"My love. My love!" An almost embarrassed pause. "Forgive me. I just wanted to say it aloud. My love. I love you..."_

Byleth swings his sword and another head rolls. 

"D-demon!" One man accuses, voice high enough to shatter glass.

"That is indeed what they call me," Byleth tells him, slashing at his neck. He goes down hard, his neck having fallen at an unnatural angle. An ugly cracking sound reverberates around the room.

If one were to ask Byleth, stepping into battle was akin to falling in love.

No one asked him what falling in love was like, nor did Byleth want to be asked. Even so, the ripple of power underneath his skin was something he could pull at his unbeating heart. 

The books that Ashe seemed to enjoy reading always had portrayed love as something thrilling, a heady, potent mixture of fear and excitement. Something that could bring even the mightiest to their knees. 

That was perhaps the closest definition to what Byleth thought was love.

Byleth did not take pleasure out of killing of people, nor did he love it. To be honest, by now, he felt nothing. He didn't feel anything at all, and then felt _something,_ and now Byleth was back to feeling nothing.

If anything, he felt almost guilty about feeling that way.

What _was_ electrifying, however, was the battle itself. Everything about it, really. 

Sothis' hair brushes against his side as they switch positions, spinning around each other. Her smirk, there and gone. A soldier yielding to his blade. Byleth can hear her soft breathing match with his and his students, alongside Rhea, hurrying down the steps to join the fray. Can see the fear in his enemies' eyes as Byleth approaches.

Byleth drags his sword across the floor, reveling in the horrendous shriek it makes upon the stone, and swings it up. A soldier goes down, and makes a much softer sound than his blade.

There was a sort of rhythm to fighting. Everyone's rhythm was different, whether or not you were more fluid or dramatic. His father had made him practice footwork for a very, very long time before he was even allowed to pick up any weapon. Hands in front, stepping back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Side to side. Side to side. Byleth remembers spinning in circles as his father twirled him with one hand. Then, when he finally was allowed to pick up a sword, he learned something more resembling dance than fighting.

Although their similarities were uncanny.

One hand on a waist, one on the hilt of a sword. Step. Swing. 

Admittedly, if someone were to die if you danced with them Byleth supposed that the fault laid with-

"Byleth!"

He whirls to see Sothis smearing a speck of blood across her face with the back of her free hand. Something about the sight makes Byleth want to smile. "Where were you?!" Sothis demands. "Up in the clouds? Becoming a boulder once more? Maybe daydreaming about that horrendously embarrassing sword dream again? Stay focused!"

Byleth can hear her underlying sense of worry in her words, so he exhales his distant thoughts and inhales the battle around him, shuddering at how at home he felt.

"Don't let me go after the Flame Emperor," Sothis snarls, whipping the sword around with an expert flick of her wrists. The blade flies out and attacks several soliders. Those who are unlucky enough to get caught upon the blade are lifted up, sword through their chest- and brought crashing down. "You know what I'll do if I get my hands on her."

Byleth considers this statement, reflexively dodging an arrow and stepping out of its path. "You should not trust me either," Byleth tells her. 

Sothis shrugs, as if she has not seen the deepest, darkest corners of his mind. "Better you than me," she says, already turning away to face the soldiers. "Get a move on!"

Their conversation apparently over, Byleth turns toward the Flame Emperor and wonders if there is a way to get everyone out of here without Dimitri seeing what lurked beneath that mask.

**Is this some kind of-**

He curls his hand into a fist and bashes it into a soldier's face. Their nose crunches under impact. Byleth's knuckles seem to be _on fire._

**-twisted joke?!**

Why did Byleth feel so invigorated today?

Byleth simply walks over. No one makes much of a move to stop him. The Blue Lions, as well as the Archbishop, are fighting off the enemies that refuse to split off from one another. Sothis is quite literally carving a path through those who have faced her. And Byleth-

Well, he is not very sure that he looks as intimidating as Sothis, but his entire sword is coated in blood. It's dripping onto the Holy Tomb, and creates his own bloody trail, droplets almost as loud as thunder despite the screams around him.

There is not a single speck of blood on the rest of his body.

He was having fun.

Fun was not the right word. He was amused? More confident? Perhaps stronger. No one had even come close to scratching him.

Byleth's feet were light. It was almost as if he was flying.

"Halt!"

His eyes narrow. It is that Metodey man. Byleth was not entirely sure of his name, but it really did not matter. Byleth keeps walking. Some of the smarter soldiers have tried to run. Nothing that Byleth could not handle. Their bodies pile up behind him.

"H-hey!" Metodey exclaims, dashing in front of Byleth to cut of his path. "I said halt!"

Byleth stares at him as if he were a bug in his meal or dirt on his sole. "Am I supposed to stop," Byleth says quietly, "just because you order me to?"

Metodey's face twists into an ugly, wrinkled visage. "You're an arrogant one, aren't you? Fine. I've been told it's fine to kill those who resist. Now then, how shall I cook you?"

"Okay," Byleth says. 

The sleazy man licks his lips. "I would love to see you scream," he tells Byleth. "What a sight you would make!"

"I would not love it," Byleth retorts, his nose scrunching up faintly with displeasure. "I feel as if your dying scream would be as ugly as your face and personality."

"H-how dare you!" Metodey chokes out the words, drawing his sword and lifting it over his head. "You'll die for that!"

Metodey charges Byleth.

"You might as well run into my sword," Byleth murmurs, dodging his slash. He's quick.

But that is all. No thought behind his attack other than killing Byleth, no intelligence, nothing worthwhile.

Byleth ducks under his arm, slashes at his side, and the man goes down hard. He screams. Byleth was right. It was not a pretty sight.

"It HURTS!" Metodey screams, dropping his sword. "I'M SUPPOSED TO WIN. HOW DARE YOU. HOW DARE YOU HARM THE LIKES OF ME. YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M CAPABLE OF-"

Bringing down the hilt of his sword upon Metodey's head, Byleth sighs at the blissful sound of silence. Finally. "You overestimate yourself," Byleth confides to him, even though the man is not awake to hear. Still, Byleth persists. "And you could not dodge a simple attack."

The man is twitching on the ground. Byleth turns away.

And there she was.

Byleth does not speak. He does not know what to say. He merely looks at her, expression wiped of emotion. He wonders what she sees now, what sort of expression lay hidden behind her mask, if she was scared or upset or even taken aback.

Then Byleth realized that he did not care either way.

"You are the one person that I did not want to make an enemy of," Edelgard says. It's so obvious now. Her voice, her weapons, her speech and tone. Byleth could not believe that he did not see her before. Needless to say, it is not as if he had paid much attention to her previously. 

The last time they had spoken was-

"Why?" Byleth asks, part of himself genuinely curious.

The Flame Emperor shakes their head, as if to rid themselves of whatever thought was running through their mind. "Enough," she says. "Come and face me if you dare."

That isn't a satisfying enough answer for Byleth. Wary of the remaining Divine Pulses that he had left, Byleth allows the wave of time to wash over him.

He blinks the gleam of indigo from his sight. 

"You are-"

"The one person that I did not want to make an enemy of?" Byleth finishes for her, flat and bored.

Silence, save for the screams in the background.

Maybe he should have said something else.

Since Edelgard seemed as if she did not want to continue on this topic, Byleth would advance the conversation for her. "The Flame Emperor," he says. "I know who you are."

"I am no one but myself," the Flame Emperor interrupts. "Enough talk."

"You only wish to converse with me if it suits you," Byleth says, lips pulling down at the corners. "Condescending."

"Since when have you been one to talk with anyone, and for this long?" The Flame Emperor shoots back.

A little far off from their conversation, somewhere distant, Byleth speaks. "Since when have you known the first thing about me and what I want or do?"

He can feel the rush of Sothis' power from across the tomb. It practically shatters the very air surrounding them. Some of the Blue Lions have been pausing briefly just to stare. Even some of the Imperial soldiers as well. Byleth could not blame them.

Her sword strikes true every single time. It glows red hot, as if the sword itself was aflame. Her dress flows around her like waves and ripples of water. It is quite the sight.

"I know you want peace for your students," the Flame Emperor says suddenly. It is as if the words are tripping out of her mouth and falling clumsily onto the floor, breaking upon fall. "I know we could be great together. You must believe me when I say that I only desire peace for us all."

Byleth stares.

"You are not asking what I think you are asking." A bewildered statement, rather than a question.

The Flame Emperor tilts their head very slowly, as if in assent. "You must trust that I am doing this for all of Fódlan. Take my hand."

"I cannot trust you," Byleth says, one fist clenching harder around the hilt of his sword. "You were the one that sent bandits in the forest, weren't you? To kill them."

Byleth does not specify. He knows that she knows exactly what he is talking about.

Tilting his head to one side, Byleth regards the Emperor properly, for the very first time. "You dare say that it is for the good of Fódlan that you are working for when you hire bandits to kill innocents."

Byleth has many more examples, but he could not divulge them without her trying to assess and analyze the words. Edelgard was sharp, after all.

No answer.

"I cannot deny that killing those students of yours would hasten my plans along," the Flame Emperor replies slowly. "But that was not the heart of the matter."

"Whether or not you believe you have good intentions," Byleth says, almost hissing the words out, "you have still committed grave crimes in their name!"

The Flame Emperor's posture straightens. "Are you not killing people as well, in the name of 'good intentions?'"

Byleth has never wanted to gawk at anyone until now. "I know my sins," Byleth replies, tone unreadable. "Are you aware of yours?"

"More than you know."

"You will take responsibility for these actions one day," Byleth tells her, blinking away the memory of an older Edelgard readying a dagger.

The Flame Emperor is still, now. "I am more aware of this than you are."

Byleth studies Edelgard, then glances around the Holy Tomb and sees the corpses in his wake. Sees Sothis' expression. Rhea's tense posture. Dimitri's haunted eyes, and the faces of his students thrust into a situation out of their control. If he blinks Byleth can see Dima's shadow hovering above him.

"Huh," Byleth says, monotone, even though he knows that she will not answer.

A burst of magic flares out behind himself. A scream soon follows.

"I really do think we would get along," the Flame Emperor informs him casually, fingers curling around their axe. "You have time to change your mind. I can be patient for you."

"No thank you," Byleth tells her, no humor in his tone. "Your benevolence and charity is staggering."

"I see."

Edelgard charges. Her armor is clunky and heavy but she moves faster than expected, and her axe nicks his chest. Byleth jumps back, barely registering the attack. 

She keeps attempting to swing her axe at him, and every time, he only barely manages to get away. Byleth leaps back, again and again.

_There._

Edelgard has a large swing with her axe, a powerful arc which could possibly mean someone's death if they came too close. She swings at his head and a few strands of his hair are swiftly clipped from his head.

Close.

Byleth is anticipating that.

Still ducked into a slight crouch from his jumps, he whips out the Sword of the Creator and it curls obediently around one of her ankles. Byleth puts all of his strength into yanking the blade up, up, and the Flame Emperor goes down. She tries to brace herself with her free hand, but the back of her head still connects with the ground, the crash so loud that everyone has abruptly turned to stare.

"Professor!" Someone calls. They're all running towards him.

Sothis' hands are crackling with thunder and fire. Her eyes are glowing, and her hair is whipping everywhere- speckles and splashes of blood decorate her features like glistening rubies.

Edelgard's mask is slipping.

Byleth has to make a choice.

** _-some kind of TWISTED JOKE?!_ **

The sword tightens itself around her ankle, and the Flame Emperor screams at the sudden pain, steel boots digging into skin. If Edelgard was not healed right away, she might have a limp for quite some time.

Was that enough for the others to notice?

Byleth wills the sword to let go of her ankle against his better judgment. 

_...Byleth. You are..._

For now.

The Flame Emperor does not waste any time, and leaps back with what looks like great effort. She has procured a staff from her cape and is whisked away in a flash of magic.

Byleth swears that they make eye contact, even though Edelgard is masked.

No Hubert.

Interesting.

"Byleth!" Sothis calls, tossing the Sword of the Creator aside. Rhea hastily hurries to catch it. The goddess leaps into Byleth's arms, and he catches her easily, spinning her around. "Are you alright?" Sothis asks, when Byleth sets her down.

"'M fine," Byleth says honestly. Barely anyone was able to even touch him. "Sothis, you are so cool."

A pleased smile creeps up onto Sothis' face. "I know," she says, flipping hair over one shoulder.

"Did you plan that last line instead of the speech?"

"...No."

"Really."

Sothis frowns at him, reaching up with both hands to tug at his cheeks roughly. "Ow." Byleth says.

"That is what you deserve, after all of this slander," Sothis informs him. "Did you crush the Flame Emperor's ankle, Byleth?"

Slowly, he tilts his head down into a nod.

"I'm so proud of you," Sothis says, eyes wide. What an odd thing to be proud of, although Byleth understood why she was proud. "I don't know why you didn't just kill them. Honestly."

"You know why."

The goddess rolls her eyes and shrugs. "Of course I do, dummy. I know every inch and part of your brain. I know what you'll do at any moment."

Byleth considers these words. "What about this."

"Huh?!"

It's too late. Byleth has already begun ruffling her hair without mercy. "Quit it, Byleth! How dare you! My hair was already perfectly tousled!"

"Okay."

"Don't use that tone with me, young man." Sothis snarls, but does not make any move to bat his hands away. "You were going easy on those soldiers. You should have killed that Metodey man."

Byleth thinks back on that man and his weird demands. "He is very pitiful," Byleth replies, as if in answer. 

"Then you should have put him out of his misery."

"Sothis."

"What?!" The goddess demands, folding her arms across her chest. "I will not apologize for saying such a thing. He was the one that desecrated the resting place of my children."

Byleth touches his cheek with a finger, deep in thought. "Oh," he says, "I forgot. They're still here."

As if on cue, Byleth and Sothis turn towards their unwitting audience, noting the shock on their faces. Rhea and Dimitri in particular look particularly surprised, the former close to tears and the latter with narrowed eyes. He wonders what they all thought of them, after seeing this scene.

"This is Sothis," Byleth introduces, master of blank faces and feeling absolutely nothing. Sothis awkwardly raises a hand to wave. "Sothis, say hello."

"Hello," Sothis says obediently. Her face has an expression upon it that Byleth has never seen before- a mix of embarrassment, surprise, and softness.

"Okay," Byleth says, clapping his hands together lightly when no one speaks. Even he is feeling the slightest bit awkward at being gawked at in silence. "Introductions are over. I want to go bathe."

Byleth begins to walk off, a confused Sothis in his footsteps, when the Blue Lions suddenly shake off their veneer of surprise and confusion.

"Who the hell is that-"

"Duel me, Sothis-"

"Are they siblings or what-"

"They look so alike! They're so cute standing next to each other-"

Linhardt clears his throat very loudly, fist over his mouth and eyes to the floor. When he glances up, his eyes are sparkling. "Professor, has the goddess inhabited this body? I knew something suspicious was happening with it when you allowed me to accompany you down here. I did not this would be the vessel for the goddess herself. Were the legends and stories about the chalice true? What about the Rite of Rebirth? No, that's impossible. There is no such proof of... Sothis, was it? Professor is not the type to lie. That settles it, then. All those sleepless nights were worth it. This is goddess, and the professor speaks to her so casually-"

Utterly predictable chaos.

"That's literally impossible."

"Professor, you need to learn better jokes."

"Are you sure she's not just his close relative-"

"I thought the goddess only stayed up in-"

Linhardt turns towards Rhea, face scrunched up in the presence of such disbelief. "Archbishop Rhea," Linhardt says, looking at her indignantly. "Is this not the goddess?"

The Archbishop has barely parted her lips to speak when Sothis huffs in annoyance. She puts her hands on her hips and sneers at Linhardt, who was seemingly unfazed by the force of her stern and arrogant expression. 

"You know," Sothis cuts in impatiently, "I can speak for myself. I am the goddess Sothis. Yes, I know Byleth. Yes I am in this body now. Any questions?"

Linhardt opens his mouth.

"Not you," she hisses. He closes his mouth.

"Forgive her," Byleth implores. "She has a short temper."

"I do NOT."

"She has also seen everything that you have done so far," Byleth explains. 

"What do you mean?" Mercedes asks.

Sothis grins sharply. "What do you think it means?"

Byleth swears that he can hear people gulping nervously. He understands. Sothis had that sort of effect on everyone.

Flayn's jaw has practically hit the floor.

"I still think that it's impossible," Sylvain says. "The goddess would never lower herself to come down to this mortal plane of existence." His last words are mocking. 

"I think it's possible," Mercedes says, turning towards Sylvain with bright eyes. "Look at her. Don't you get an ethereal feeling just by glancing upon her?"

Byleth feels something tug at him. It is not nausea, but feels almost like he is using a-

Sothis grins sharply. "What do you think it means?"

Byleth swears, once again, that he can hear people gulping nervously. He understands. Sothis had that sort of effect on everyone. 

Wait.

Sylvain opens his mouth. 

"I still think that it's impossible," Sothis says, at the same time as Sylvain. His eyes are blown wide. "The goddess would never lower herself to come down to this mortal plane of existence."

"What." Sylvain says.

Sothis sighs. 

"I think it's possible," Mercedes says, and her jaw hits the floor as Sothis mimics her words at the exact time that she does. "Look at her. Don't you get an ethereal feeling just by glancing upon her?"

"Sothis," Byleth murmurs worriedly.

"It's not any of yours," Sothis tells him.

"What is going on?!" Dimitri suddenly demands, looking between the two. "Professor, who is this?"

Sothis looks at the prince with a sort of fondness that could be called patronizing on anyone else's face. On Sothis' face, it was almost pitiful. "Ah, the princeling. I thought you had ears. I am the goddess. Obviously."

"No way," Caspar insists.

The goddess rolls her eyes to the high heavens. "Honestly! How many times do I have to repeat myself?! I am the goddess. You do not have to believe me. Why do I have to prove myself to you!? Come on, Byleth. We can go to the sauna ourselves."

Sothis yanks at his hand and stomps off. Byleth has no choice but to be pulled along, eyes slightly wider than usual. 

Someone tugs on his other hand to stop them.

It's Rhea. Her other hand has dropped the Sword of the Creator to the floor.

"M-mother," she gasps. Byleth can hear the Blue Lions frantically whispering to one another. "Where are you going? Why are you leaving?"

Sothis looks at her, her hard expression changing into something soft. "Seiros," she says, "can I not bathe with you interrupting?"

Rhea says nothing.

Suddenly, she dashes forward, and Sothis is promptly swept into her arms. "Mother," she sobs, as if totally unaware that anyone else exists within the room. "Mother...."

"I'm here," Sothis says. "I am right here."

"But- but. This isn't the vessel! How are you..."

Sothis rips herself so abruptly from Rhea's grasp that she stumbles her way out of the woman's arms. "That's right," Sothis says, voice suddenly hard. Rhea stills. "The _vessel._" Her tone is cold and mocking.

Flayn looks between the two of them with wide eyes. "I'll- I'll go get f- brother." The girl hastily runs from the Tomb without looking back.

"You should join her," Sothis tells Byleth. It's not a suggestion. She levitates the Sword of the Creator into his hands and Byleth cannot do anything but catch it.

But Byleth is not easily swayed.

"No," he says. "Sothis, please, what is happening?"

She does not look at him. "Leave. I promise to tell you later."

"Sothis-"

"I command thee," Sothis says, suddenly dropping into an accent Byleth cannot place. "Take your students and leave."

His legs move without his permission. Byleth cannot move at will. Not even his eyes. Like a puppet on strings, he and his students leave the Holy Tomb and are not freed from her grasp until they are back in the cathedral, sitting with perfect posture upon pews.

Seteth and Flayn hurry past them.

Byleth watches them go. 

"Ah," he whispers. The Blue Lions stare at him.

Byleth sighs. That seems to be the trigger for his students, for they leap forward and ask several questions at once. Byleth can barely hear them. He's rubbing his hands over his face and realizes that his gloves are sweaty.

He feels gross.

With a small frown, he tries to focus on their words. Something, something, was that the goddess. He does not know who. Maybe Ingrid.

"Yes," Byleth says. Someone is shushing them. The Lions stop speaking. The silence is much louder than words. 

Byleth wills every emotion away. How everyone else lives like this, he does not know. Why was everything so much stronger? It was annoying.

"Professor?" Someone asks. It is Dimitri. "Are you okay?"

"Never better," Byleth lies. "I am sorry. I cannot answer all of your questions, not because I do not wish to do so, but because I do not have all of the answers."

Ferdinand's hand shoots straight up. "How do you know the goddess?" He asks loudly, then winces. "Professor." The last word is said in a whisper.

Byleth taps his head lightly. "She lived in my head," he says, and without looking up, he knows that the students look incredulous. "You do not need to believe me. I do not know the specifics, but it had to do something with my birth. Anything else?"

"So the goddess is real," Lysithea butts in. "What in the world has she been doing, all this time?"

"Sleeping," Byleth says, then frowns. "No. It is more complicated than that. I am sorry, but that is all I know."

Something changes in Dimitri's face. "If that is the goddess... then why has she returned to Fódlan? Is something going to happen? What now?"

Byleth leans his head over the back of the pews. "I don't know."

.

"Hello."

With a soft rustle, Byleth sits on the grass in front of his mother's grave. In one hand, two cups of tea, precariously stacked and wobbling on each other. The other, a tea pot, warm to the touch. He's also got flowers tucked under one arm and a parcel of flat bread under the other. Byleth had quickly walked over to the graveyard so as to not drop anything, especially not the flowers.

Valerian flowers.

Byleth had glanced at the blooms for a mere moment before gathering up all of his courage to pick them. They had long, thin stalks and small pink and white flowers blooming at the crown.

What was it that his father about these flowers?

_"Can't say I know jack much about flowers, kid. But your mother did her very best to knock them into this hard head of mine." Jeralt taps at his temples for emphasis. "Valerian flowers," he says, pointing at them with a long finger._

_"Valerian?" Byleth had asked, after a short silence._

_"Valerian," his father agrees. "In the language of flowers, they apparently mean strength-"_

"And health," Byleth murmurs, eyeing the small petals.

Hand steady, he sets the flowers onto the dark stone of the tomb and sits back. 

"Sitri," Byleth says. The name feels odd upon his tongue. Not a bad odd, per say, but still very odd. "Sitri Eisner."

A pause.

"Mother," he says, cautiously. 

Nothing happens. The world does not open up around him and swallow him whole. Meteors do not crash upon the earth. The war does not immediately start. Despite nothing much really occurring, Byleth feels as if his world has been shaken up.

"Mother," he repeats. "Hello."

Only the wind answers him. He does not mind. To be honest, Byleth did not expect anything else to happen.

Something welled up in Byleth's chest once he saw Sothis interacting with Rhea. It had moved him, and suddenly Byleth had been up and running to the dining hall. He ignores the way the Blue Lions have all gathered in the greenhouse, presumably for some sort of meeting. 

He wonders what they think. He had peeled himself off of the pew and ran straight to the sauna as soon as he could. So many things were changing. Byleth did not know how he would keep up with it all.

Banishing the thought from his head, Byleth pours them both a cup of chamomile tea. He picks up one of the cups, its contents swirling around the sides, and sets it next to the flowers. There is another set of golden flowers on her grave, and a short white candle. The wick has long wilted.

He takes a sip of the hot tea. Perhaps Byleth had oversteeped it. He adds sugar and sighs at the taste.

Byleth sits there in silence, occasionally sipping at the tea. For the next couple of minutes, all he does is trace the engraved letters with his eyes. There is a certain absence in the academy. Dusk. Already past curfew, and yet, the Blue Lions were still likely at the greenhouse.

"They're incorrigible," Byleth tells his mother. 

The rustle of grass greets him, moving by the will of the wind. Steam is slowly curling out of their cups. Byleth watches this and feels at peace.

Someone steps behind him and Byleth immediately jumps to his feet, drawing his sword. 

The man behind him puts up his hands as if to assure Byleth that he is not a threat. Unfortunately for him, Byleth does not trust easily.

"You are Byleth, right?" The stranger asks.

Byleth's eyes narrow. "Who wants to know?"

The man does not lower his hands. "I am sorry for startling you. I am a monk. I work for the church."

Byleth has never seen this man in any of his lives. He does not lower his sword, an says nothing.

As if nervous, the man scratches at his head. "I oversee the Abyss under the church's orders," the man attempts to explain. "I was also one of your mother's and father's friends."

"You have yet to state your name," Byleth responds. Not only that, but Byleth had absolutely no idea as to what Abyss was. What was this man on about?

"Oh!" The man hastily bows. "I am Aelfric. It's a pleasure to meet you. Forgive me, I forgot my manners for a moment. I was just surprised. You are the spitting image of your mother. Your face, your hair... everything is so similar."

"Is that so," Byleth says. He sits back on the ground, but does not set down his sword.

Aelfric nods at him. "I am sorry to interrupt. Please, continue to give flowers to your mother. I know that she would enjoy you doing so."

Only when he leaves does Byleth notice the valerian flowers in his hands. Byleth does not let go of the sword until he was out of sight. He cannot trust so readily, especially not someone who Byleth has never met even in his past life.

So many things were changing. And unfortunately, he was one of them. Byleth did not enjoy feeling emotions at the moment.

.

Byleth already knows that it's going to be a long night, so when he leaves the graveyard, he sets off immediately for the fishing pond.

He's predicting that Sothis will not be back at all tonight, so he is actually looking forward to a night in which he can sit at the fishing pond without anyone demanding he sleep.

Fishing was very relaxing, and almost mindless. He could forget the entire day.

Byleth wonders what he should make. Fish stew with noodles? Fried fish with some fresh vegetables from the greenhouse? Some sort of fish broth to be poured over rice? Maybe, if he caught a certain type of fish, he could slice it into cubes, pour sauce over it, and eat it just like that. Or maybe he could cover it into chunks and fry in batter. 

His stomach rumbles at the appetizing thoughts. Byleth was so hungry. It only occurs to him now that he did not eat.

He licks his lips briefly at the thought of his future meal. Delicious. He was genuinely excited.

Byleth sits down on the pier and relaxes. There really was an appeal to fishing, the prey lured by bait and not knowing it was their demise. He makes sure that the rod was properly taught and stringed-

A thought occurs to him. 

Staring down into the water, he watches a few fish splash around, dodging Byleth's shadow.

It probably would not work.

But...

Byleth points at a certain large fish, which had the look of being particularly appetizing. "I command thee," Byleth says, barely a whisper. "Jump onto the pier."

Nothing happens. The fish simply floats peacefully.

He was kind of disappointed, but Byleth did think that genuine fishing was more exciting than the fish running towards him. Oh well.

Suddenly, as if to directly contradict him, the large fish flops its way onto the pier. Byleth stares at it.

"No," he says.

Pursing his lips, Byleth makes a sound. "I command thee?" It comes out as a question. "Jump into my hands and do not struggle. ...Please."

A beat where Byleth turns his palms up. The fish leaps into his hold and does not move.

"Eh?" Byleth blurts, staring down at the fish. 

Interesting. 

A part of him wants to figure out what else he could do. Another part of him just wants to fish. On one hand, a relaxing evening fishing. On the other...

Byleth wonders, and wonders, and wonders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay sometimes i don't leave it on cliffhangers evagaggss. this is once in a lifetime tho.
> 
> byleth has leveled up and has unlocked the skills [redacted] and [redacted]! ooh
> 
> yes im including the rhea sothis with seteth and such talk. next chapter. look forward to it :)
> 
> imma take a break this week! gonna just rest. thank u for understanding!
> 
> thank u so very much for reading ♡
> 
> byleth/dimitri B rank  
byleth/dedue C+ rank  
byleth/felix B rank  
byleth/annette C+ rank  
byleth/ingrid C+ rank  
byleth/sylvain B rank  
byleth/mercedes C+ rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt C+ rank  
byleth/ferdinand C+ rank  
byleth/lysithea C+ rank  
byleth/cyril C rank  
byleth/flayn C+ rank  
byleth/caspar C rank  
byleth/dorothea C rank
> 
> byleth/jeritza C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/sothis A rank  
byleth/claude C rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea C+ rank


	30. comet you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone! welcome back, i missed u ♡♡♡♡ i played a fucking shit ton of rune factory over this break lol. idk who to marry so im dating everyone and feeling really bad about it dhshhshs 
> 
> IMMA LET U KNOW RN THAT AS SOON AS AC DROPS IM TAKING A BREAK WE'VE BEEN WAITING FOR LIKE ALMOST A DECADE NOW FHSHHSHSHS 
> 
> GORGEOUS ART OF SOTHIS BEING COOL [SOTHIS IS SO COOL](https://kazomer.tumblr.com/post/611414281767010304/listen-i-know-we-all-went-feral-over-that-scene-i)
> 
> this is the anime arc chapter shshsh

One hand raised to the sky, Byleth catches the small droplets of water. It's not bothersome enough to be called rain, merely a drizzle, so Byleth stays on the dock. Besides, he feels as if it would pass soon. The clouds were light and so were the skies, darker than blue but lighter than an ominous gray.

Byleth wonders why significant events in his life occur when it rains.

He would spend the rest of his days thinking about rain and what it entailed, and live an eternity not knowing when it would stop. 

Occasionally Byleth allows himself to think on the past and what he would do if he was sent back. Even then, he knows that he would spend every single hour, every second and every moment drenched in the rain.

_...would be for me..._

_Tell me, professor..._

Byleth has never disillusioned himself with indulgent dreams. There was no way that he could ever return to that time. If he succeeded, that time would not exist. Even if by some miracle Byleth was able to return, he would live there unsatisfied, knowing that he could have done something.

From a young age, Byleth has been taught to analyze his battles and how to approach them, how to triumph. Jeralt had told him many a time that there was no shame in running from battles Byleth might lose. It was strategy in of itself to know when to retreat. 

Byleth knew full well that it was likely impossible for Fódlan to immediately grow into a peaceful, prosperous land. What exactly did Edelgard desire so badly that she would wipe out tens of hundreds of thousands of people for her lofty ideals.

Someone would be unsatisfied. Someone would spend their days counting the drops of water upon their windowsill and pray. Someone would lose all of their cards despite the desperate gamble.

Even Byleth cannot imagine Dimitri and Edelgard laughing together like siblings. It would be impossible. Too many things were left unsaid between them. 

Besides.

Byleth cannot honestly say that he can ever forgive Edelgard. In this life, his past life, and in the next.

He was very aware that all of his questions and answers lay within Edelgard. Maybe if he had chosen the Black Eagles to first gain her trust-

His nose wrinkles at the thought. Absolutely not.

But perhaps he really should invite her to tea soon. Actually, now that he thinks about it, shouldn't she have declared war on the church by now?

A part of him wants to run to her room and finish it off, but...

No matter. Sothis was making her move. Byleth would have to do so too.

If Byleth was able to run from this time to his past, would he? Perhaps he would ask Dima to marry him as soon as he laid eyes upon him. Maybe he would finally be able to get more than a few meager hours of sleep. Byleth could wake from what seemed like a very, very long dream.

He shakes his head. Serious thoughts later. Fishing now, despite the rain.

Despite the rain.

Despite the-

Did that mean that something significant was about to-

"Professor."

Byleth whirls his head around to see Dimitri standing there. He's got his blue cape held above his head as if to protect him from the rain. His expression is soft. "Let's get you out of the rain," the prince says.

At these words, Byleth turns his head back. "No," he tells him. "It's not that bad."

"I see," Dimitri says. Byleth expects him to walk away, so he's pleasantly surprised when the sound of his footsteps come closer rather than drift away. He sits next to him on the pier, and adjusts the cape so it sits on both of their heads as a makeshift shelter. It feels as if their proximity is closer even though they're already sitting next to each other. There is a soft warmth radiating from the prince.

Byleth blinks at the gesture. "You don't have to."

"I want to," Dimitri informs him. "I don't want to see you get sick."

"I've never been sick," Byleth tells him, but makes no move to remove the cape. "You should go back to your dorm. Curfew shall be soon."

Dimitri shakes his head. "Tomorrow is not a school day, so curfew is not until late." A cheeky smile suddenly appears on his face, and Byleth is once again stunned by his dimples. "You would not get me in trouble, would you, professor."

Byleth turns back to the pond. "I suppose not."

The prince sighs next to him. Maybe Byleth did not have the reaction Dimitri desired him to have. "What are you doing, professor?" He glances over to the bucket of fish, already full. The fish at the very top are wriggling enough to nearly leap over the rim of the bucket. "Is that not enough fish for you?"

"I'll return the ones I do not plan on eating," Byleth says softly.

"Then why are you fishing?" The prince asks, cocking his head to one side. It shifts the cape over their heads and a droplet of rain falls onto Byleth's nose.

"It's relaxing," Byleth replies. 

"Ah."

A companionable silence falls over them. Byleth enjoys it. It is not uncomfortable for him, but...

"Are you really okay just watching me fish?" Byleth asks. "It must be boring."

As of now, both of Dimitri's hands have been clasped together on his lap. But at those words, one of them falls from his thigh to the pier, and brushes gently against Byleth. "It's not boring," Dimitri whispers, sounding genuine. "I enjoy spending time with you, and learning about what you enjoy."

Byleth wonders if the prince ever got embarrassed from his words. He hums in response. Another quiet silence falls upon them, as Byleth fishes up a chubby looking pike. He hums once more, pleased. 

Dimitri's head falls upon Byleth's shoulder. "...Is this okay?" Dimitri asks.

"It is fine."

"I see."

In his peripheral, Byleth sees the hand on Dimitri's lap twitch. Dimitri clenches it into a fist, raises it, and slams it back down. How very puzzling. But he will not ask, if Dimitri will not say anything.

The rain has become stronger, strong enough that it makes pleasant sounds when it meets the surface of the pond.

Byleth tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. He's noticed that it has become longer than he usually wears it. Not long enough to reach his chin, but enough to tie it up. He probably should ask his father to cut it, or ask Sothis for some hair ties if Jeralt was busy. "Dimitri," he says, looking at the prince. Byleth leans forward, chin out. "Are you able to keep a secret?"

The prince startles, one of his thighs knocking against Byleth's own. It seems as if his eyes cannot find a place to settle- his chest, the pond, Byleth's eyes, his hair, his chin. "A secret?"

"Yes," Byleth says. He stares at Dimitri until the prince finally meets his eyes. "I trust you. Are you able to keep this for me?"

Dimitri makes a very, very loud coughing sound. On instinct, Byleth presses a finger to his lips, effectively stopping him. "Not so loud," Byleth tells him, light as a feather. "I wouldn't want anyone to know."

"I- I understand," Dimitri stammers, trembling. It seems as if the boy is struggling to keep a hold on his facial expressions. It was a good thing then, that they were under his cape. "What is it?"

Byleth studies his face a moment longer and watches the prince school his demeanor into something more composed. "Watch."

Setting the rod down with one hand and pushing the cape away from his face with the other, Byleth stares at the fish in the bucket. He watches them writhe, wet fins and tails slapping against the sides of the other fish and the bucket, too. 

"I command thee," Byleth says, narrowing his eyes at a red scaled fish. "Jump out of the bucket and into my hands." The fish follows his command in an almost docile manner. There is barely a sound as it flops in his hands.

Byleth then turns his attention to Dimitri, who is watching all of this with wide eyes. "Did you see that?" 

The prince nods, seemingly stunned and at a loss for words.

Now, Byleth would never call himself a show off, but he does like being confident in his powers and abilities. "Now," Byleth continues, staring back at the fish, "I command thee. Please jump back in the pond. ...And spin around thrice."

The fish leaps delicately from his palms and into the water. One spin, two, three. 

Dimitri blinks rapidly. Byleth completely understands his confusion. "I do believe that I am able to do this because of Sothis."

Clearing his throat, the prince finally regains some focus in his eyes. "That's- that's incredible. Is it just animals? Have you tried it on anything else?"

"Mm," Byleth hums. "No."

"Does it work on things that are not alive as well? What about plants?" Dimitri fires off the questions all at once. "Wait, professor. Try and command the wood in the pier to do something."

Byleth nods, then stares at the ridged wood swirls within the panels of the pier. "I command thee." A long pause. "I command thee to... To detach yourself from the edge of the pond."

The pair waits a moment to no avail. Nothing happens. 

"It was worth a shot," Dimitri declares. Byleth shrugs. "How about living beings, like you and I?"

"I have not tried," Byleth tells him. Only a couple of minutes ago did Byleth figure out he could command things to follow his bidding. 

With shining eyes, Dimitri points at himself. "Why not try it on me?"

The thought is nauseating. "No," Byleth says. What if he hurt Dimitri, or there were unforeseen consequences to this command? He also did not like the idea that this command would make anyone, let alone Dimitri, unreservedly compliant to his will.

"It's fine, professor!" Dimitri exclaims, looking a little bit excited. "I trust you not to command me to do anything odd. Besides, aren't you curious about whether or not this will work? It is best to experiment with consent rather than find out later in a less controlled environment."

Reluctantly, Byleth concedes the point. "Is it really okay with you, Dimitri?"

Again, the prince grins softly at his professor. "I would have not offered if I wanted otherwise."

Still rather uncomfortable, Byleth relents. "...Alright." He directs all of his focus onto the prince. 

"I command thee." Byleth thinks of something harmless. "Stand up. ...Please."

In one smooth motion, Dimitri stands. His eyes are foggy for a brief moment, but as soon as he blinks it away, he smiles at Byleth. "It worked, professor! I had no control over my body. It was a strange sensation, but I do trust you."

To be honest, Byleth is not as excited as Dimitri seems to be. Manipulation... Very effective, but very invasive. And if Byleth did not precede his demands with a 'I command thee' it likely would not work. 

"Did you eat?" Byleth interrupts both their thoughts. Dimitri shakes his head lightly. "I see. Come with me to the dining hall. I shall make us dinner."

A pause. "A very late dinner."

.

"S- Rhea!" A voice calls. Sothis turns to look, arms crossed over her chest. One hand is tapping out a rhythm around the curl of her arm. "Is it true that-" 

A loud gasp.

Sothis stares at the man struggling to catch his breath and sees flashes of a boy standing in his place. "Cichol," she greets softly.

His head snaps up, a tiny bead of sweat trailing from his temples. "Mother," he gasps, as if he cannot believe that he was even speaking the words.

"Did you always have a beard?"

"_Mother!_"

Sothis snorts in his face. "And what's with all this 'mother' stuff? Didn't you all used to call me mommy-"

"_MOTHER!_"

"I'm kidding," Sothis says. 

"Haha..."

Neither of them make any move to speak. Sothis is drinking in the sight of Cichol and Cethleann, Cichol is busy picking his jaw up from the floor, and Cethleann is glancing quickly between them as if the tension in the air could snap at any moment.

Cethleann cannot suppress her flinch when Sothis' intense stare focuses on her. Much to her surprise, Sothis- _the goddess- her grandmother-_ grins at her. It's a childish smile, one that transforms her entire face.

"You must be Cethleann," Sothis says. "Or do you prefer Flayn? I do not mind."

"Any- any is fine!" Cethleann stutters, suddenly nervous. She wrings her hands awkwardly together. "S-sothis."

Sothis giggles at the girl. "Why are you so nervous? And also, address me as grandma." As soon as the words leave her mouth, she flinches. "No. Forget I said anything. Grandma or granny or grandmother sound like I am old. But I suppose that I am indeed old."

Cethleann awkwardly laughs. "Should I kneel or something?"

"Absolutely not," Sothis says. "Why should you do that? I'm just your ordinary... grandma..."

Once again, she winces. "Yes. That is banned from now on."

Now, Cethleann cannot help a genuine smile. "Sothis, then."

Sothis smiles at her. "Yes, Cethleann. It is very nice to finally become acquainted with you in person. You know, you really cannot understand how odd it is to see you now, outside of Byleth's head."

Whirling around, Sothis turns to see her daughter, shaking. "Seiros," Sothis addresses the girl. Not so much a girl anymore. In her place stands a mature woman, a face lacking baby fat with sharper eyes in its place. "I cannot believe you did not say anything about Cichol's beard."

Sothis cannot help but note that Seiros has not looked away from her once. 

The goddess watches as her daughter's face softens. "I have tried many times."

"You said it suited me!" Cichol yells, sounding betrayed. He catches his tone, suddenly aware that he sounds younger than before, as if they were simply bickering siblings once more. Cichol clears his throat. "No matter. I quite enjoy my beard, and that is that."

"Do you now."

"MOTHER."

Sothis, Seiros, and Cethleann burst into giggles. Cichol looks very betrayed at the fact that even his daughter is laughing. 

"Come," Sothis says, "I tire of standing." They trek back to the throne, taking the steps two at a time.

As soon as Sothis practically collapses onto the stone chair, Seiros and Cichol drop to one knee, right hand placed above their heart. Frantically, Cethleann falls to both knees as well, wincing at the hard ground. 

"There is no need for _you_ to kneel," Sothis says, coolly. She is not even looking at Cethleann, and yet the girl is aware that the statement is for her. Just as quickly as she fell to her knees does Cethleann stand, wanting to brush at her knees with a hand but does not dare move.

No one speaks as Sothis leans on the arm of her throne, chin propped up on one hand. "So then. Explain yourselves."

Silence. 

"I can wait forever."

It is Cichol that speaks up first. "Forgive her," he says, voice suddenly wavering. 

Sothis eyes her son with narrowing eyes. "Forgive who? And for what? I will not understand if you do not tell me."

Seiros' chin dips so Sothis cannot see her face. "I do not need forgiveness," Seiros murmurs. "I did this all for you, mother. I wanted to see you, mother. Therefore-"

"Have you considered that rather than doing this all for me," Sothis begins, voice struggling to stay calm, "that you have done this all for yourself?"

Silence. "Byleth's mother Sitri was... one of my creations, mother. When she gave birth to Byleth, she had asked me to save him, due to the fact that he was stillborn. And I saved him, with..."

Sothis can hear her swallow. "...with your heart."

With a sharp smirk, Sothis leans forward on her throne. "And it all just magically fell into place, did it not? You saved his life, and then decided to hand it over to me. Have you ever thought that Byleth was his own person, rather than a vessel for me?"

The hand over Seiros' heart curls into a fist.

"Well?"

Even though Sothis cannot see her face, she knows full well that Seiros is gritting her teeth. "Mother, you are correct. The very moment that I found out that he could wield the sword of the Creator, I- I knew. He could be your vessel. Rather than crafted by mine own hands, he was born. He was a blank slate ready to be filled in, and-"

Sothis slaps her hands against the rests of the throne and Seiros snaps her mouth closed. "'He' has a name, and you will refer to him as such!"

Seiros swallows. When Sothis does not continue, Seiros takes it as incentive to continue. "Byleth is a very special individual. I thought that..."

"I would take over his body and claim it as my own." Sothis concludes. "Therefore returning to the mortal plane as the goddess."

The goddess frowns. "Where did this body come from?"

"I created it," Seiros confesses, "in case the vessel- Byleth, would not be suitable. But without your heart-"

"It's incomplete," Sothis agrees. She curls a fist over where her heart should be. She is not really upset about having a body that could fail her at any moment. It was better put to use protecting Byleth and lending him strength. But in time...

A thought pops up in Sothis' brain, one so alarming that Sothis stills. "Seiros."

Both of her children dip their heads obediently. Even Cichol, who was not being directly addressed.

"Byleth is off limits," Sothis informs them. "I command thee. Thou shalt never attempt to steal his heart, n'r lay a finger upon his person. Do not even dare to harm him in any manner, lest you desire to suffer the consequences." The command wraps around Seiros, a spell so strong only Sothis could break it. Commands could work in this manner, too.

Seiros bites down on her lower lip. "Yes, mother."

Sothis puts a finger to her lips. "Oh, and you must also apologize formally to him."

"...I understand, mother."

"Very good," Sothis praises. "Now. I must divulge in you something very critical, and you must tell me everything that has occured in the time that I was asleep. Lie, and I will know."

Seiros and Cichol nods as Cethleann shifts her weight nervously.

Sothis eyes Seiros from under long lashes. "I won't forgive you until Byleth does," she informs her daughter.

.

Byleth had selected two chubby looking fish to cook for their meal. He wanted to make some sort of soup, and also fry up some of the fish in a light batter.

Dimitri had merely watched him pick out the fish and release the rest. Byleth had asked him to chop up ingredients for the soup. They worked quietly together, Byleth directing the cuts, until Dimitri had cut straight through the cutting board and into the table. Dimitri was simply watching Byleth work now.

"Do you like fish?" Byleth asks. 

"I don't dislike fish," Dimitri tells him. "I have always wondered- why are you fond of fish, professor? I- We have noticed that in your spare time that you head straight for the fishing pond. Also, why do you wish to know?"

With deft fingers, Byleth slices up the fish. "This is valuable information. I don't know much about the you of now."

Byleth reconsiders his words. _Of now._ Almost hesitant, Byleth looks up to see Dimitri deep in thought, as if he did not notice his slip up. The prince likely would not catch on anyway. Byleth has no intention of telling Dimitri or any of the Blue Lions about his future past.

"May I ask you something too?" Dimitri asks. Byleth hums in agreement. "W-what is your favourite flower? I'm just curious, because I see you in the greenhouse every day..."

An odd question, but one that he can answer all the same. "I don't know. Zinnia flowers? Maybe valerian flowers too. Ah, I like pansies as well." Byleth dips the fish into the prepared batter and into the hot oil. It pops lightly, and he has to hide a smile when Dimitri steps back.

"Do you not cook?" Byleth asks. Dimitri shakes his head.

"No. I was never permitted in the kitchen, not only because I was a prince, but because I broke everything when I went in there." Dimitri grins. "One time, Felix and I were trying to sneak cookies out out of the kitchen, but I broke the entire jar opening the lid somehow. I also broke a whisk, and then a plate, and then several other plates. Things like cooking, sewing, and cleaning were things I was never able to do even if I desired to. ...That sounded very spoiled of me, did it not."

Byleth shrugs. "Things like cooking, sewing, and cleaning were things that I had to learn. Like keeping my swords clean, sewing both wounds and clothes shut, and throwing a fish onto the fire and hoping that it does not burn."

Dimitri snorts, and hurries to cover his mouth. 

Realizing that the soup and the fried fish are finished cooking, Byleth hurries to kill the flame and plate the food. They walk to the tables, and Dimitri steals the bowls from his hands so that Byleth does not have to carry everything in two batches. "I hope that you enjoy," Byleth says. "I promise that I did not burn anything."

Dimitri breathes in the aroma. "It smells very delicious, professor."

Byleth nods at him, inwardly pleased. He takes a spoonful of soup and sips at it. He thinks that it is good. In his peripheral, Byleth watches Dimitri take a bite of the fried fish. 

"...Good?"

"Good," Dimitri says, although he's looking at the food, and not Byleth.

"You can tell me if it is not palatable," Byleth says. "I will not be offended."

Dimitri shakes his head so fast Byleth worries that he will get whiplash. "N-no! I- I cannot taste anything, professor. I can smell the food I eat, but I cannot taste it."

"...I see."

Byleth did not see. He had no idea that Dimitri was unable to taste. When they shared tea and snacks, it didn't seem like he was unable to taste it, although Byleth could not be sure. Not even in his past life did he realize this. Was Dima capable of tasting food in his past life, or was it just Dimitri?

"...I hope that it smells good."

"It does, professor." Dimitri says softly. "I know that it tastes as good as it smells. And because you are sitting with me, I shall enjoy the meal either way." 

Instead of responding, Byleth tries the fried fish. He is satisfied with the crunch.

"Dimitri," Byleth says. "May I ask you another question?"

The boy blinks at him. "Of course. There's no need for permission."

"What is your relationship with Edelgard?" Byleth asks, carefully analyzing how quickly Dimitri's face goes blank. 

"Why?"

_-a girl dressed in red collapsing to her knees. Her eyes are void, as if absorbing every bit of shadow and darkness in the throne room. When she glances up at them, she-_

"No real reason. Merely my curiosity."

_-seems as if she can barely comprehend the sight in front of her, like the air she inhales is choking her throat and ripping itself from her body-_

"I'm quite fond of her," Dimitri admits softly. "But only in a platonic manner."

_-and a hand reaches out, no hesitation in the movement. Byleth is-_

The prince scratches at his cheek, looking completely embarrassed and out of his element. 

_ **dying, he does not want to die, HE'S CHOKING, HE'S CRAWLING AND SCRATCHING AT THE FLOOR AND WRITHING AND CONVULSING AND HE'S NEVER, EVER HATED ANYONE, NOT LIKE THIS, NOT EVER-** _

_He wonders if this was how everyone else felt whenever they felt anything strongly. If it was, he wanted the heart ripped out of his body. Emotions only-_

Byleth flashes the best smile he can manage, which is really just a quirk of his lips. "I see," he tells him. Dimitri smiles at him, and Byleth is suddenly aware of how warm and tender he feels.

**-get in the _way._**

There is a part of him that wants to bask in this feeling like a particularly soft cat stretching under a beam of sunlight. There is another part of him that wants to take an axe to his emotions, any and all of them, and watch them shatter and bleed ichor and melt into the ground.

_-El..!_

This was all for them, after all. Byleth was not allowed to feel anything on the matter. So long as Dimitri had any positive feelings for Edelgard, then Byleth would...

.

Early morning the gatekeeper knocks on Byleth's door and politely informs him that they are having a schoolwide meeting in the cathedral. At least it was not another student wanting to see Byleth in a nightgown. He wonders if he looked funny in them.

Still sleep addled, he dresses quickly and rounds up the Lions. Even they seem sleepy. They, too, likely had a very rough night.

Byleth had stayed up waiting to see if Sothis would return to their shared room.

She did not.

Pushing the thought away, he tries to suppress a yawn. Byleth opens the cathedral doors and-

Dimitri leaps in front of Byleth, hands raised in front of his face as if ready to strike with his fists. "Professor, look out!"

Byleth looks around the prince to see what he was meant to look out for.

There within the halls of the cathedral sat a-

"_Dragon!_" Byleth exclaims, hands clasping together in glee. He cannot help how excited he is. Dangerous creatures possessed a certain charm, a certain cuteness that Byleth was not immune to. Things like dragons, bears, and lions were all in the same category in Byleth's books. "It's a dragon, it's a dragon!"

Gargantuan was not a magnificent word enough to describe them. The dragon was a shiny, delicate mix of green and white scales, which shone in the light and reflected a myriad of different colours depending the angle that one was looking at. They were so huge, they had to duck within the cathedral, despite how large the area was. Golden claws were etched into the marble floors, and their horns were massive, sleek, and sharp looking, so much so that Byleth was sure that his breath was sliced in the air upon looking at them. A long tapered tail curled around the entire room, little spikes appearing around the ends. Their eyes were unfortunately closed, so Byleth could not admire their colour. And the wings-

"Professor!"

The Blue Lions are staring at him, as if struck by something. Perhaps too, like Byleth, they had been struck by a sudden love and admiration for the creature. Byleth, however, has no other thought in his head other than 'dragon!' He briskly walks up to the beautiful creature, or tries to anyway, because Lysithea has yanked at his sleeve. "Professor! Have you gone mad?"

Byleth whirls on the girl. He is very sure that his eyes must be sparkling, for Lysithea's jaw drops when she sees his face. The Lions all seem to match her expression. "It's a dragon," Byleth says slowly, as if they did not hear.

"Yes, we are aware!" Annette exclaims. Her eyes are so wide, Byleth fears they may just pop right out of her head.

He gestures wildly at the dragon yawning. It must be a yawn. Their mouth parts, then practically splits right in half to display an impressive amount of sharp and pearly fangs and a pink tongue. It's forked. Byleth is _in love._ The dragon is so cute. "They are adorable," Byleth says, almost shy. "I just want to pet them."

"NO!" The Blue Lions chorus.

Felix raises his hand. "Can I fight them-"

"FELIX!"

The boy scowls and does not look at anyone.

One of the guards, apparently desensitized to the sight of a dragon- _a dragon!_ ushers them into a pew. They go with less fuss. Byleth thinks that every single one of them is so shocked at the sight of the dragon that they sit quietly. 

Everytime Byleth makes to stand, the Blue Lions give him a look. Unfair. Perhaps he was not going to pet the dragon. Maybe he wanted to get a glass of water.

He is placated at the sight of every single student walking inside of the cathedral with some form of shock. Lorenz trips on the way inside. Leonie reaches for a weapon that is not there. Bernadetta- _how did they get her to leave her room-_ shrieks and hides behind Petra. 

Edelgard and Hubert freeze in their place when they see the dragon. Was Byleth seeing things, or did Edelgard limp ever so slightly? Both of them had to be guided into their seats by Petra.

The dragon opens their eyes. 

Byleth is immediately enamored. It's a familiar shade of green-

Wait.

In a flash of light, the dragon pulses once, twice, and shifts midair. It is almost as if someone has taken a knife to a ray of light and pulled at it from every edge and corner. 

A girl floats down. 

She is wearing all white. The girl is decorated in a form fitting dress, the fabric a glossy shade of snow white. The sleeves are sheer, and are much more poofy than the rest of her dress. Byleth realizes that there are two slits down the sides of her thighs, cut into the dress and are seamlessly hidden when she does not move. Even her shoes and nails are a pearly white, which makes her green hair even more striking. Sleek and bright, not a single curl in sight. It is long enough to reach her knees. Her bangs are artfully styled across her forehead. A sheen of red covers her lips. 

As soon as she touches the floor, she opens her eyes.

"Sothis," Byleth breathes.

She barely glances his way. Sothis' shoulders are squared, her posture perfect, as if a string was attached to her spine, stretching up to the heavens.

Byleth was very upset. She turns into a dragon now, but never before? How incredibly vexing.

"I am Sothis-"

And either way, why did she not come back to their room last night? Perhaps she was catching up with her children... Which was an odd thought. No matter which form she took, Sothis always looked so very young.

"-do not expect you to follow me-"

If Rhea was Seiros, then that likely meant that Seteth was Cichol. And that they were saints. And that the woman from his dreams was actually Seiros. Which meant that when Sothis was hinting that the woman from his dreams was actually Seiros-

"-here because I wish to accomplish something-"

Which probably meant that Sothis had already gained her memories back. Byleth ponders on the matter a while longer, then comes to the conclusion that she had regained all her memories before they had become one. And when they returned to the past-

"-is all."

-Sothis kept her memories.

Byleth emerges from his thoughts just in time to see Sothis warp from the cathedral.

The students burst into chaos. 

"So the professor was telling the truth-"

"I want to fight a dragon-"

"Seriously? That's the goddess? Professor, does she like heading out for tea-"

"That's insane. What do you think she's trying to accomplish? Professor, were you listening?"

Was it just him, or was everyone in the cathedral staring at him?

Byleth blinks at all of them. "I'm going back to bed," he says, and heads back to his room, ignoring the calls at his back. 

.

After about an hour of sleep, Byleth drags himself to the dining hall to see Sothis sitting amongst the Blue Lions. Her hair is no longer straight, and she is back to wearing her regular dress.

Some of the Blue Lions seem excited that she is at their table. Some of them seem weary. The others are staring at her with blatant worship. Byleth thinks about heading over to Edelgard and asking his questions so he can go back to bed. He is much too tired for interaction at the moment. 

Everyone's eyes are on the Blue Lions.

"-do you know how much product was used in my hair to keep it from curling-"

Honestly, Byleth is surprised that the Lions welcomed her without much fuss. Or perhaps there was a lot of fuss, and he was just asleep for it.

"-did you know that Byleth likes-"

Sothis glances up from her eggs and bread and spots Byleth. She immediately stands from the bench, stumbling out of her seat, and runs over to him. Byleth hurries to catch her in his arms, and spins her around once before setting her down.

"What are you doing?" Byleth murmurs. 

"Making sure everyone knows that you are in my favor." Sothis whispers back. 

"I think the Lions already know," Byleth mouths quietly.

Sothis snorts. "It's not them that needs to know. It's Edelgard."

The goddess steps back. "Byleth! I have a very important mission to bestow upon you. Bring your Lions."

"Okay." 

"It's very important," Sothis informs him, smiling wide. She takes Byleth's hand, folding their fingers together. Byleth thinks he hears a choking sound from the direction of the Blue Lions' table. He hopes that everyone is okay. "Come along."

The goddess drags him out of the door, and the Blue Lions scramble out of their seats to follow, totally aware of all of the eyes on them.

.

Sothis drags Byleth into their room, the Blue Lions following closely behind. "Whoever is last, please shut the door!" Obediently, Dorothea closes the door.

Byleth breaks free from her grasp and collapses onto his bed. "Sothis, you betrayed me- eugh!" The goddess has apparently decided to sit on his back. The Ashen Demon, reduced to a lumpy chair.

"Whatever you are talking about, I did not." Sothis insists.

"How could you transform without telling meeee...." Byleth groans. "I wanted to be the first to see you turn into a dragon."

The goddess snorts at his very significant plight. "You would have to return to centuries long passed," she simpers. 

The Blue Lions seem a mix of amused and confused. Byleth can understand the latter.

"Get off me," Byleth complains, but makes no move. 

"I don't feel like it," Sothis declares, and focuses more of her weight onto the small of his back. This is Byleth's life now apparently. "Anyway, here's your mission-"

"I won't do it unless you get off of me," Byleth mumbles into his pillow. "I am very displeased with you, Sothis."

Sothis sighs, but stands. Byleth finally pulls himself up, rubbing his back. "Are you done being a baby?" Sothis demands. 

"No," Byleth deadpans. They need to stop bickering before the Blue Lions start making up weirs rumors about him.

The goddess rolls her eyes. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. Your mission is to hunt down a group of people named the Agarthans."

When she doesn't follow up with more information, Byleth frowns. "That's it?"

"That's it."

He groans and rubs a hand over his eyes. "I do not know who these Agarthans are, and why we're hunting them down."

"Normally I would know," Sothis informs him, "but I have been asleep for a very, very long time, and I need you to find them."

"Why."

Byleth can see the look in her eyes. A look that says 'because I told you so.' It seems as if she herself is struggling to say the words.

The goddess groans. "Because they're the ones that put me to sleep," Sothis says. "They are the reason why your sword even exists. They are-"

She cuts herself off, which puzzles Byleth. Shouldn't he know as much information as possible in order to combat them? "I don't expect you to roam an empty field for their location. I have two other children, Indech and Macuil."

"You have more children?" Byleth says, his normal deadpan turning into something more surprised.

"That is correct," Sothis tells him. "And I wish for you to seek them out. Although they have likely removed themselves from mortal affairs, it is not unlikely that they know something about the Agarthans. Find them and bring them to me."

"You are so old," Byleth declares. She smacks his arm.

"Shut up. I'm not done!" Sothis exclaims. "I'm sure they must know something. There are rumors about their location. I shall assign Ci- Seteth to help you look."

Byleth blinks. "You're not coming?"

"I want to," Sothis confesses. "However, I shall be busy when you depart."

"With what?"

_Sothis pushes off of her throne, grinning wildly. "Rise, my children. I have a duty for all of you."_

_Seiros and Cichol stand, eyes bright. Cethleann is slightly hunched over, nervously twirling one strand of hair around her finger._

_"Cichol, you know your duty. Seiros, spread the word. The goddess has returned! Invite every king, every queen, every emperor, ruler and leader. Invite the poor, invite the children, invite the elderly, the ones underground! There will not be a single person in the nation who does not know that I have returned. We'll hold a grand celebration!"_

_Seiros nods excitedly, but Cethleann awkwardly raises one hand. "Excuse me," she says softly, almost wanting to hide when Sothis' attention is on her, "but will that not paint a target on your back? What about the Agarthans, and the Empire? Will they not desire your head, Sothis? And what about professor Byleth? Will he not be present?"_

_Sothis smiles softly at Cethleann. The smile is so warm, the girl can feel herself melting. "Ah, Cethleann. You must know that is exactly what I want!" The goddess giggles behind one hand. "Byleth doesn't need to know. In fact, he would be much safer, departing from the academy on a chase that may not even be fruitful. I personally cannot wait to see what they will attempt, in order to take my head."_

"Nothing," Sothis drawls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT WASN'T MUCH OF A CLIFFHANGER BUT HHHHHHH god i just wanna put cliffhangers everywhere omg. 
> 
> good job sothis planning shit by yourself! good job for separating your two braincells, im sure that won't turn out terribly for everyone dhshshsh
> 
> THE BEAUTIFUL ASYRIN ONCE AGAIN MADE BEAUTIFUL ART FOR THIS CHAPTER  
[so so cute](https://aysrin.tumblr.com/post/612084617941581824/new-chapter-got-me-like-hnnnnnnnn-quags1re)
> 
> edit: guys shshshshsv i am aware of how byleth says he knows that dimi can't taste things in an earlier chapter dhshshsh but thanks to all of you for pointing it out lol but it's meant to be there
> 
> GOD I REALLY MISSED YALL LOL. WE ARE GOING OFF THE MOTHER FUCKIN RAILS THANK U SO MUCH FOR READING ♡♡♡♡
> 
> byleth/dimitri B rank  
byleth/dedue C+ rank  
byleth/felix B rank  
byleth/annette C+ rank  
byleth/ingrid C+ rank  
byleth/sylvain B rank  
byleth/mercedes C+ rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt C+ rank  
byleth/ferdinand C+ rank  
byleth/lysithea C+ rank  
byleth/cyril C rank  
byleth/flayn B rank  
byleth/caspar C rank  
byleth/dorothea C+ rank
> 
> byleth/jeritza C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/sothis A rank  
byleth/claude C rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea C+ rank


	31. human

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS TIME NEXT WEEK, WE'LL HAVE ANIMAL CROSSING AAAAAAAAA HYPE HYPE HYPE IM SO EXCITED WHAT ARE YOU GUYS NAMING YOUR TOWNS IF YOU DON'T MIND ME ASKING
> 
> the lovely satourun made beautiful art of sothis and byleth goin' fishing! check it out and show them some love!! [lovely art!](https://quags1re.tumblr.com/post/612660652710969344/satourun-the-goddess-expression-softens-i-am)
> 
> in these times, i really, really hope that all of you are safe. please stay healthy! that is really all you can ask for, right now

"So when are we leaving?" Sylvain asks, waving his knife around. Dedue catches his wrist and gently places it onto the table so Ashe does not need to dodge the hazard any longer. 

Byleth and the Blue Lions are sitting in the dining hall, eating dinner. It is some sort of meat stew, with peas and potatoes. Byleth pushes the contents around with a thin spoon. "We are not leaving for a couple of days."

Many students and surprisingly, staff, have approached their table. Some meet Byleth's eyes and flee the premises. Others stutter out questions, like Marianne and Ignatz, who are both blushing heavily. Lysithea snaps at them for being spineless. People like Petra approach as well, unsure but not at all concerned. Their questions all about the same subject, obviously.

_Is that really the goddess?_

_Professor Byleth, how is that possible?_

_What is your relationship to her, professor?_

At odd questions, the Blue Lions stiffen. One nun refuses to leave their table alone, so Sylvain flirts with her and drips words like honey from his lips until she leaves in a frantic hurry, cheeks red. Hanneman runs up to their table with a needle, Byleth's father pulling him away by the ear with an angry expression. Even Alois has stopped by, eyes flickering with something like awe. Byleth is almost annoyed. Not at the people that have asked him questions, per say, but the fact that his stew slowly cooled the more they talked with him.

Byleth notices another thing.

Not a single one of them dare to speak her name. 

He can almost imagine how they are feeling. A dragon, right in the midst of their cathedral, transforming into a gorgeous, mysterious woman, who claims to be the goddess. It was not as if they did not believe her. Who could have possibly seen such a sight before? Not to mention the adoring eyes of the Archbishop, and the aura around her, mystifying and impossible to approach. As if her presence casted a shadow upon them, gazing into shining, brilliant starlight.

The Blue Lions were not immune either. Felix twitched every single moment anyone mentioned her. Mercedes seemed to be dancing upon rainbows and sunlight. Dorothea tenses whenever Sothis was near.

Dimitri and Dedue had been watching Sothis, a question dangling upon their tongues. Byleth has somewhat of an idea about what they want to ask. He can see it in the shadows of their face, and the way they glance at Byleth, as if worried about his own thoughts.

Byleth stirs the stew around, spoon clinking on the sides of the bowl.

"Eh?" Annette exclaims. "Why not?"

Mercedes giggles a little. "Annie, we don't even know where they could possibly be. Do you really think that we could just leave the academy and find them?"

"Them?" A voice asks.

Everyone at the Blue Lions table ducks their head, save for Byleth. He spoons a few vegetables into his mouth before he turns toward the sudden intruder. It is Claude, because of course it is. Byleth nods at the boy, briefly chewing a couple of peas before scooping up another spoonful.

"You know," Claude says, a thoughtful expression on his person, "I'm not the type to want to demand answers. I rather enjoy finding out people's secrets on my own time. But despite the fact that you have been here for many moons, I haven't learned a thing about you, professor. You appear, a revered mercenary, and with you a bunch of mysteries, including the _goddess._ I realize now that it's better to ask from the source. So, who are you?"

Byleth savors the stew in his mouth, rolling the flavors around for a brief moment. After he's done, he sets his spoon down. "I'm Byleth."

Byleth can practically sense everyone's urge to slap their foreheads. Even Claude seems thrown for a moment, before he bursts out into raucous laughter.

"Fine," he says, sounding gleeful. "It's better if I figure this out all on my own anyway."

"Well, in regards to 'them,'" Byleth says, thoughts racing through his mind. "Sothis asked me to take the Blue Lions to find her children, the other saints, and bring them to her while also demanding that we figure out the location of some people called the Agarthans, apparently."

Everyone is staring at him. Byleth blinks lazily. "It is not a secret. Besides, I thought that Sothis would assign all of the classes missions."

"Professor," Dimitri says, wary. His eyes flit between Claude and the professor.

Byleth shrugs. "It is fine. Everyone shall know where we are going soon enough."

Claude drapes himself over Byleth like a bony, uncomfortable blanket. "Besides," he simpers, smirking at Dimitri. "We are best friends, are we not?"

"Sure."

"That's not a no!" Claude declares triumphantly.

Byleth swats at him. "Please go back to your meal. It is getting cold."

Claude buries his face into Byleth's hair, nuzzling into it as his arms tighten around Byleth's shoulders. He can practically feel the Blue Lions all tense around him. "You'll keep me warm, won't you?"

"Claude."

The boy laughs, and releases his hold on Byleth. He laughs even louder when he acknowledges the fierce glares directed at him. "Don't be maaaad," Claude drawls. "Professor, you didn't mind, did you?"

Byleth has already returned his focus to his cool stew. "Not really."

He does not have to turn around to know that Claude has a triumphant grin on his face. "Do not rile them up," Byleth scolds, and Claude practically skips back to his seat to whisper in Hilda's ear.

Honestly, Byleth prefers Claude's unpredictable nature and straightforward personality in comparison to the stares of the knights, students, and staff. Even his favourite cook was staring at him.

Speaking of stares...

Sothis bursts through the dining hall door, Seteth hot on her heels. Frantically, Ingrid, who was sitting next to Byleth, scoots over closer to Caspar on her other side, and just in time too, for Sothis practically leaps onto the seat next to Byleth.

The looks have intensified.

"Mo- Sothis!" Seteth exclaims, sweat beading on his forehead. Unperturbed, Sothis wraps her arms around Byleth's chest and tucks her chin there, too. 

"Save me," Sothis whines. Without any further comment, Byleth wraps his arms around her and tucks her head underneath his chin, sending Seteth a glare. Even the Blue Lions have begun to frown at Seteth. Felix has one hand on his sword, and Lysithea clenched fists pulse with magic.

Seteth falters at the sight of them, and then sighs. "Please do not run," Seteth tells her, looking as if he wants to roll his eyes.

"Who wouldn't run when being chased?!" Sothis exclaims, muffled by Byleth's chest. 

"What's going on?" Byleth snaps. Everyone turns to him at his sudden, fierce expression. Seteth has become very, very still.

Another person runs through the doors, swinging their arms around. It's Flayn, and she looks rather distraught. "Sothis! Do not run from paperwork!"

Everyone turns to a now sheepish looking Sothis. "No! What's the point of paperwork! Why do I have to do it!" She buries her head into Byleth's chest even further somehow. 

Seteth whips out an accusing finger at the goddess, although she cannot see it. "Did you not create the act of doing paperwork?"

"Not for me to do!" Sothis yells back. 

Byleth sighs. "...Sothis. You must go and do your work."

"No."

"Please," Byleth says softly. One of his hands reaches up to comb through a few stray strands of her unruly hair. "If I have to do paperwork then so do you."

Sothis groans, and it rumbles across Byleth's skin. 

"Sothis."

"Fine," she snaps, removing her arms from around Byleth's chest. "But you are making me another fish sandwich, as a reward!" She does not wait for a reply.

Just as quickly as she came, she sweeps out of the dining hall, stomping the entire way. Like a whiny, bratty storm. Seteth and Flayn trail at her heels. The door slams shut.

Everyone in the dining hall stares at each other. 

Once again, the door slams open, revealing Sothis on the other side. Again. "Byleth, I did come here for something! Tomorrow, you should check out the library for clues as to their locations. All myths have truth to them, after all."

Barely processing the situation, he nods bleary, at her. Sothis nods back, then whirls around to stare at the other tables. All of the students still, wary to be under the focus of the goddess herself.

"...You." Sothis begins, and then covers a grin with a pale hand. "Hey, I'm talking to you. Edelgard and Claude, right?"

Both of them go very, very quiet. Byleth does not even think that either of them are breathing.

"I'll think something up for you two to do, as well," Sothis informs them, tapping a slender finger to her chin. "Aren't you bored of your peaceful missions?"

Sothis regards them both with narrowing eyes, waiting for an answer.

"Sothis," Seteth calls, from somewhere outside the dining hall. She rolls her eyes at the call.

"Coming," Sothis announces, slamming the doors shut without even a goodbye.

Byleth is very tired. He finishes his cold stew and tells the Lions that they'll meet tomorrow in the library. 

As he ties the string keeping the neckline of his nightgown together into a tight ribbon, Byleth realizes something. 

Why hadn't Edelgard declared war upon the academy yet? Byleth curls up onto neat sheets and realizes that it would be better to think about this in the morning.

.

Byleth wakes with a start, hand curling around the hilt of Airgetlam underneath his pillow. He's about to whip it out when he realizes who is there.

"Go back to bed," Sothis whispers, as she awkwardly levitates him into the air to move him closer to the wall. "Sorry. I did not mean to wake you. Shh, shh."

He mumbles, still half asleep, words leaving his lips incoherently. With a lazy hand, Byleth shoves Lammy back under a pillow, mumbling. Sothis shushes him once more, and crawls under the blankets, curling up against Byleth's back.

_Where were you?_ Byleth has to think the messages, for he was sure that they would not come out as words, muffled against his pillow.

"Mm," Sothis murmurs. "I was with that prince and his retainer. And I also spoke with Seiros for a bit."

_Why?_ Byleth thinks, even as he mumbles the word into the sheets. It comes out as 'mphm,' but Sothis has always understood him. _Is something wrong?_

"No," Sothis says, one hand fisted into the fabric of his nightgown. Their legs entwine briefly, and Byleth shudders at the touch. Her skin is very cold. How long was she outside? "They wanted to ask me questions, and Seiros asked if I wanted a room of my own. I told her that I already have one."

Byleth feels the words swim around his thoughts at a snail like pace, sliding and dripping at the speed of molasses. _Questions?_

Sothis touches her forehead to his back, and suddenly Byleth's head is flooded with a certain scene.

_Dimitri's hands clenched at his sides-_

_"-how could you let such an event happen?!-"_

_Dedue is not looking at anyone, face stormy-_

_"-I no longer could pray, for I knew that no one-"_

_The prince's fist shatters a part of the wall, and he's-_

_Sothis mentions Byleth, and they-_

_Dedue wiping tears from his prince's face, almost-_

Byleth does not dare to breathe, as Sothis curls up against him like a cat. "I wish I never fell asleep," she whispers, and Byleth has never heard a prayer so desperate, so solemn, so heart-breaking. In an attempt to close off his own emotions, he allows himself to be swept away by dreams of a distant time.

.

"Professor, it's time to- WOAH!"

Byleth rolls over, groaning at the sudden intrusion. He pries open one of his eyes with great difficulty and sees Sylvain and Dedue standing there. A light brush of snow swirls in, and the wind that accompanies it makes Byleth shudder. He closes his eyes and curls against the warm thing in his bed.

Wait.

Sothis, asleep in his bed, legs entangled, pressed together. Sylvain, looking scandalized at the door. This has happened before, although they have used a Pulse to correct their mistakes. Although Dedue was not there the time prior. The look on his face was actually quite amusing, really.

Well, everyone knew about Sothis, and their mysterious and unspoken fondness for each other, so Byleth cannot bring up the energy to care. He curls into a small ball under the blankets, inching closer to Sothis. Someone gasps.

He can hear more footsteps, the crunch of snow underneath boots. "Sylvain? Dedue? What are you doing, outside of the professor's door? You will let the chill inside! What if the professor caught a cold!"

Byleth is jolted awake by the rather violent slamming of the door, and Sothis quite literally rolls off of the bed. 

"DON'T LOOK INSIDE!" Sylvain screams, and Byleth groans, wiping at one eye with a fist. 

"Eh?" The voice is close enough to identify. It's Dimitri. "What's wrong?! Is the professor in danger?"

"Well..."

Byleth yawns softly, pressing his palm to his mouth to cover the sound. He swings his legs off of the bed, careful so as to not accidentally kick Sothis. Miraculously, she is still asleep. Perhaps that was the perk of a goddess, to be unmoved no matter what chaos unraveled nearby. He pulls at the string on his collar to loosen the nightgown, and quickly strips out of it, letting it drift to the ground into a heap. 

"If the professor is in trouble-"

"NO!" Sylvain exclaims. 

Byleth wants to sigh, but he is far to tired for even that alone. He really does wonder what his students think of him. Was he a fluttering fairy of some sort? With deft hands, he pulls on his clothes and layers his armor atop them, but not before smoothing out several wrinkles on the the fabric. Leaving over, he picks up his nightgown and swiftly folds it into a neat fashion. 

"Sylvain, Dedue, please move out of the way."

Sitting down on the edge of his bed, Byleth pulls on his boots, sliding them onto his feet in one movement. He wraps his cloak onto his shoulders and pulls on his gloves, eyeing the ring before it disappears from sight. Gently, he picks up Sothis and places her on the bed, tucking her under the sheets.

"Your Highness-"

"Hey, Dimitri, don't-"

Byleth opens the door to see Sylvain pulling at Dimitri's cape, eyes wide and face flushed, while Dedue awkwardly stands in front of the door. He wonders what they thought he was doing, then shrugs the idea out of his head. Even in two lifetimes, Byleth would never understand their thought process. 

The three students stare at him with wide eyes. "We should head to the library," Byleth says, and all three of them turn away. 

"Are you in a illicit relationship with the goddess?!" Sylvain blurts, slapping both hands over his mouth as if to catch the words leaving his lips.

Byleth stares at him in disbelief as both Dedue and Dimitri whirl on Sylvain, although both for different reasons.

Without waiting for them to follow, Byleth walks off. 

.

The Blue Lions are huddled in the library, books haphazardly opened and all over the tables, as well as the floors. There's a trail of books from Linhardt making a path to the the doors as he flips through books and casts them aside like a king with a penchant for dishing out punishment. Dedue is grabbing books from the top shelves and sitting down to carefully analyze every single word, while Caspar recklessly uses the ladder to take every single book he can reach down, Ingrid scrambling to catch them and Dorothea yelling at the boy.

The library doors open very carefully. "I brought sweets!" Mercedes exclaims, Ashe in tow. They're both balancing cookies, cut up fruit and tarts upon trays, as well as a tea pot. Tea cups are stacked in a pile upon a tray, and it wobbles so violently Byleth hurries to meet them and ever so gently steal them from the tray.

Like the hungry teenagers they are, the Blue Lions all take a handful of sweets and hurry back to their work, thanking Mercedes and Ashe as they go. Byleth takes a grape from a bowl and slips it into his mouth as he searches the index of a particularly thick book. 

"What about this one, professor?" Cyril asks, dropping a book onto one of the empty spaces near Byleth. "It says 'dragons' on the cover, so it may be helpful!"

Byleth examines the gold lettering with a careful eye. "You are getting better at reading by the day," he remarks, which makes Cyril bite back a grin at being pleased.

"Naw," Cyril tells him, scratching the back of his head. "I just thought that since the goddess transformed into a dragon, the others may transform as well. But thanks for saying so." He disappears back into the shelves, but not before taking a cookie from the tray and shoving it into his mouth.

Slipping a thumb between the pages that Byleth was reading prior, he picks up the thick book that Cyril had just gifted him to peruse over the glossy pages. He knows that this may not even have anything to do with Indech or Macuil, but it was a book about dragons. Of course Byleth was intrigued by the contents.

_...Some dragons covet very different items from one another. For example, a dragon that is sea-based may perhaps fill their hoard with glistening pearls and shells of various colour, size, and shape. A dragon that lives in the forest may collect mushrooms with vibrant exteriors and even trees larger than themselves, their trunk-_

"Found it." Linhardt declares, raising a book up. Immediately he is swarmed by eager Blue Lions, gazing upon the cover with wide eyes. 

Felix looks at the cover and narrows his eyes. "It's a storybook," he says, almost mocking. "What could we possibly learn from that?"

Linhardt sniffs. "Every myth and story and parable has some truth to it," he says slowly, "otherwise it wouldn't be written. I recall reading this long ago..."

He flips open a page and points at it. The Lions all rush to be the first to read the page.

"'The Legend of the Lake,'" Ferdinand reads aloud. "Legend foretells of a holy weapon that does not require any Crest to wield it. It is hidden within Lake Teutates, and guarded from those who are not pure of heart, or so it goes. Beware The Immovable! The goddess has been said to grant this to Saint Indech, or so the story goes..."

Compared to every single legend in the book, it is woefully short. The other legends have at least a page or two describing its glory or importance, but this one only possesses a paragraph to its name.

"Pure of heart..." Ingrid remarks. "I guess Sylvain can't come."

"Hey!"

All of the Blue Lions ignore his shout.

Mercedes points at the page. "Isn't that too many 'or so it goes?' It seems rather suspicious..." 

The Blue Lions all frown. Byleth steps in, in order to raise their spirits even the slightest. "It is better than nothing. Besides, I can ask Sothis about this so called weapon."

Dimitri frowns at the page. "Still... Hm. Is there anything about Saint Macuil in this storybook, Linhardt?"

"I don't recall," Linhardt admits, but he still flips through the pages. "Maybe there is mention, but I am not sure."

Patiently, they watch Linhardt flip through pages. "Well, there are three stories that mention the goddess, other than the ones about how she created the world." He raises three fingers. "One, about a relic like a gem that weighs a human's worth. Another, about a location with a legend known as the Sleeping Sand. The last one is about dragon madness."

"Dragon madness?" Byleth asks, curious. 

Linhardt nods his head. "Yes. Shall I read it aloud?" When Byleth nods, Linhardt clears his throat and begins to read. "It is said that in a place, long, long, long ago, yet untouched by frail mortals, lived a group of great and powerful dragons."

Byleth can feel his eyes sparkle at the thought. A land only populated by dragons! What a place that would be. Linhardt continues to read, unaware of his professor's sudden bright expression. "One day, the society of dragons collapsed due to various reasons, such as a decrease in fertility, which caused many a line of dragons to die out. This caused the dragons to go mad. Realizing that some of the dragons were not in their right minds, it is said that the goddess implored them to seal their dragon form into stones with great power and assume the forms of humans to prevent their rage from seeping through. Unaware of the chaos they were about to commence, some of the dragons refused, blinded by their arrogance, pride, and hubris. Soon, they fell to their base desires, degenerating into madness, losing their common sense and sentience, and used their great power for terrible purposes, forcing the goddess to make sure that they never hurt another ever again."

Silence.

Suddenly, Annette shivers. "Aren't there any happier stories?" She asks, almost scared to know the answer. 

Byleth can hardly hear her. Was that a true story? Where would it take place? The only place that he could think of was-

"Zanado," he mutters, not noticing the stares he was receiving. 

"We could search there," Sylvain agrees. "It's not a bad lead."

"What about the other stories?" Byleth asks, his head beginning to hurt. He wasn't even sure if-

"Well," Linhardt muses, "like The Legend of the Lake, the Sleeping Sand Legend has little to no information. It only says that there is a great beast that lies there, which challenges any and all travelers that pass its way."

"Let's go," Byleth and Felix say in sync.

"We don't even know where this beast could be!" Annette protests. Both Byleth and Felix slump. 

Ashe leans over to read the specified text. "A beast in a desert, huh? Are there any texts about such things?"

All of the Blue Lions hurry back to the shelves. Byleth continues to read the book of dragons. Perhaps the great beast that lay there was indeed a dragon, and perhaps it was discussed in the text.

Suddenly, Sylvain snaps his fingers. "I'm an idiot," he declares. Everyone turns to stare at him. "You know how my family is in charge of looking after Sreng, so they do not invade?"

All of the childhood friends look as if they have had an epiphany. "The Sreng deserts!" They declare as one.

Caspar blinks at them, still looking confused. Byleth understands and relates with him perfectly. "What are you guys talking about?" Caspar demands. "I want to be included, too!"

"In Sreng," Sylvain explains, raising a finger. "They actually worship a great beast that resides in the desert!"

All of them come to the same conclusion at once. The Blue Lions all high five, clapping and laughing in delight. 

"So that's three leads," Dorothea says, proceeding to count them all off. "One, the lake Teutates, in which the legend said that a relic would preside. Two, Zanado canyon and the dragon madness story. And three, the beast that the folk in Sreng idolize!"

"What about the gem?" Dedue asks. "The relic one."

Linhardt shushes all of the Blue Lions before they settle quietly again. Byleth is reminded of a mother refusing to tell bedtime stories unless her children settle down and become quiet. "This is called The Legend of the Necklace. It is said that the goddess herself created it from her own body and gifted it to mortals in order to test the will of humans. If they were a good, kindhearted person, it would beat in tune with their heart and protect them against sickness and wounds, as well as make them stronger. If they were not, it would place a curse upon them- dooming them to be struck down in battle."

The Blue Lions all frown. "For some reason," Sylvain adds, a little quiet now. "That is the least believable legend of them all."

"Yeah..." Lysithea says, looking thoughtful. 

Annette raises her hand, as if they were still in class. Still, Byleth calls on her. "Yes, Annette? What are your thoughts on the matter?"

"I could be very wrong," Annette says, a little quieter than normal, "but a necklace that beats in tune with one's heart? Does that not sound like Mercie's relic?"

They all whirl to look at Mercedes, who is already lifting the neckline into view, out of the shadow of her uniform. "Come to think of it..."

"That's kinda weird," Caspar says, blunt as ever.

Felix folds his arms across his chest. "It's not a lead, so it isn't helpful. But..."

Everyone still felt uneasy. How much of legends spoke the truth?

Then, Byleth realized. He could simply ask Sothis.

.

"Where do relics come from?" Byleth asks, as he sits on a stool.

He had been directed into Rhea's- Seiros'? Rhea's chambers by Flayn. Apparently, Rhea has been insisting that she wear more white. Goddess knows why. Although, Byleth does assume that Sothis does know. There was a wooden screen set up in the middle of the room, where Sothis was changing in and out of various white dresses. She was apparently not pleased with the selection, for already Byleth could see a tall pile of white dresses peeking out from the sides of the wooden screen.

"Relics come from me," Sothis says blandly, stepping out from the screen. "What do you think?"

Rhea is beaming from ear to ear. She has been smiling more often, making the students and staff look upon her with a much softer air. "I think you look stunning," the woman gushes, hands clasped together as if in prayer.

It is a long gown, where the skirt flares out at the hips and cascades like ocean waves down to the floor. The back of the skirt has a long train of sheer fabric, and the collar of the dress dips low enough to make Byleth very uncomfortable about looking at her.

Apparently, Sothis feels the same way. She rolls her eyes. "Yes, I agree, Byleth. I look hideous." Byleth has said absolutely nothing. He and Flayn share a look. Once again, the goddess disappears behind the screen. "I don't understand why I have to wear these dresses. Seiros, I like wearing colour. And my dress was just fine. Besides, if I wanted a new dress, I am capable of creating them from thin air."

Rhea looks absolutely appalled. "Mother, you have been wearing the same dress for hundreds and hundreds of years." Ah. Byleth supposes that they weren't gonna hide that fact in front of him any longer. "At least find a new dress."

Byleth watches the dress that Sothis was just wearing get tossed over the screen and onto the floor into a heap. Without any complaints, Rhea picks up the dress and straightens it out.

"But, a serious answer," Sothis says, still from behind the screen. "In truth, relics are... made from living things. However I did not exactly bring on their existence."

"**Mother.**"

Rhea's tone makes every single hair on Byleth's body stand up. 

"Are you using that tone on _me?_" Sothis asks, incredulous. 

Seiros dips her head, looking thoroughly scolded. Byleth almost feels bad. 

A shuffle of fabric, and Sothis steps out again in a flowing white dress. Long, billowy sleeves, and a loose skirt with a slit down the middle. When she walks, the slit opens further and reveals nearly all of her legs. If she does not move her arms, her fingers barely peek out of the large sleeves. The goddess spins around in it. "So? How is this one? Honest answers only."

"I think it's nice," Byleth informs her.

"Hmmm," Sothis says, looking as if she does not believe him. "Why?"

"Your sleeves can hide knives," Byleth replies.

"This is the one!" Sothis exclaims. She practically runs to the screen to change out of it and back into her regular dress. "Byleth. Relics are are sacred items. Treat them as such."

Her sudden, serious tone makes him still. "Of course," Byleth agrees, and only then does he realize that he has not received a proper answer. 

Byleth does not push for one.

.

At dawn, Byleth pries himself from Sothis' side and begins to pack. A few daggers, a knife to cut vines. Non perishable snacks, warmer gloves, and a scarf. Clothes, a blanket. Two flasks, both filled with water. Everything he may need. Airgetlam tucked into his cloak, the Sword of the Creator at his hip. He presses his nightgown into the top of his bag, folding it neatly. 

When he looks up, Sothis is staring at him, the blanket on her lap. She beckons him forward with a hand, and he goes without a word, sitting at her knee. The goddess cups his face with one hand, and as dawn breaks over the horizon, they press their foreheads together.

For some reason, Byleth feels like a child. He does not want to leave her side, despite the fact that he knows that they can talk in their minds, and that she was never truly gone from him.

"Mortals do say that I know when everyone's time to depart is," Sothis begins, moving away and lacing their fingers together. "They say I know whenever I call them to my side. But I have never left your side, Byleth. There is not a moment that I will not be far. Look within, and I shall be there. Depart with your head held high, standing tall. As long as we exist under the same sky, you and I will never be apart. If you do not find them within the Moon, return to the academy."

"I'll miss you," Byleth whispers, as if it were a secret. She did know every single part of his mind, after all.

"There's nothing to miss," Sothis chides. "A part of me shall always be with you. Now, go. I shall meet you at the gate. Someone wants to see you."

Confused, Byleth picks up his bag and leaves his room. On the other side stood his father and the mercenaries. Immediately, Byleth drops his pack and runs to his father's arms. He pats Byleth's head roughly, but affectionately. 

"Are you coming?" Byleth asks.

Jeralt shakes his head, and before Byleth can even think to be disappointed, his father shoots him a big grin. "Someone has to look over that Sothis woman. She'll be safe in my hands."

Byleth stares up at his father, unflinchingly. "And you?"

"Me?"

"Will you be safe?" Byleth asks.

For some reason, this makes Jeralt's grin wider. The mercenaries all coo and tease, but Byleth only has eyes and ears for his father. "Of course, Byleth. I'm more worried about you."

"Then come with me," Byleth implores. He feels so very young, asking his father to stay with him. Like tugging at his sleeves and such, for attention.

Jeralt pulls Byleth into a side hug. "Nah. But you are taking all of the mercenaries."

"All of them?" Byleth asks. They all jeer.

"Of course we're coming with you!" One declares. "We can't just let the baby of the group go on an adventure without us!"

"...Baby?"

"Besides," another cuts in. "That prince is coming. We can't trust him around you. He totally has bad intentions for you."

Byleth is just more confused. "Dimitri is a good person," he informs them. They all make a face.

"That's what he wants you to think," one says, snorting. "In reality, he wants to purge your innocence! Listen, boss. He totally has the hots for you, and wants to do unspeakable things to your young, supple body!"

Byleth is flattered that they are worried about him, but disgusted at their terrible metaphors. "You're wrong," Byleth tells them, sure of himself. "And never make such a terrible comparison ever again."

Jeralt covers Byleth's ears with both hands and sneers at the mercenaries before letting go to throw an arm around his shoulder. "Come on, kiddo. I'll walk you to the gate."

The walk feels like it took ten years, and at the same time it feels as if it was only ten seconds. Byleth wants to curl into his father's side and not emerge until he agreed to come with, but such thoughts were woefully childish.

Byleth cannot help himself.

At the gate, he does a headcount of the students, and freezes. 

Why were-

"Oh hey, professor!" Claude greets, raising one hand. Behind him stood the yawning Golden Deer. Next to him was-

"Good morning," Edelgard greets. As always, Hubert stood, steadfast, at her side.

What was going on.

Dimitri spots Byleth suddenly, smiles, and waves. "Good morning, professor."

"Ah," Byleth greets. "Morning. Why are the other classes... Here? Are they leaving for their mission, too?"

"Oh, they're coming with us!" Dimitri exclaims. "The Archbishop decided that it would be quicker and more efficient if every student came with!"

Byleth wants to sink into the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT TIME IT'S ADVENTURE TIME + SOTHIS AND JERALT BONDING. LOOK FORWARD TO IT
> 
> i mentioned this in a previous chapter but ill say it again! im taking a break for animal crossing baby i cannot wait im so excited AAAAAAAA we have been waiting SO. FUCKING. LONG. gosh
> 
> if canon will not address dragon madness properly bitch you better believe i will
> 
> again! please, i hope that u and your loved ones stay safe and healthy!
> 
> thank u so very much for reading ♡♡♡
> 
> byleth/dimitri B rank  
byleth/dedue C+ rank  
byleth/felix B rank  
byleth/annette B rank  
byleth/ingrid C+ rank  
byleth/sylvain B rank  
byleth/mercedes C+ rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt B rank  
byleth/ferdinand C+ rank  
byleth/lysithea C+ rank  
byleth/cyril C+ rank  
byleth/flayn B rank  
byleth/caspar C+ rank  
byleth/dorothea C+ rank
> 
> byleth/jeritza C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/sothis A rank  
byleth/claude C rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea C+ rank


	32. the water of the womb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome back everyone! i hope you're all staying safe, healthy and happy ♡
> 
> IVE BEEN PLAYING ANIMAL CROSSING UNTIL MY EYES ARE LITERALLY BEGGING ME TO BLINK LOL. THEY WOULD CRY IF THERE WAS ANY MOISTURE LEFT, BUT THERE AINT BABY ive been time traveling and kicking villagers out and it's just a good time!
> 
> i would like to take this moment to thank all of you for reading. we hit 100000 views! are y'all fucking for real im in tears thank u guys sososososo much for the support. seriously without you godspeed would have not have gotten this far. from the bottom of my heart, thank you.
> 
> okay gosh i missed byleth and sothis phew LEGGO

"Have you all been to the bathroom?" Byleth asks, a series of nods appearing in response. "Drank water, eaten breakfast? Have you remembered to pack extra clothes and something to sleep in? Flasks and non perishable foods? What about whetstones-"

"You're like a mother," Claude cuts in.

Byleth does not know how to handle all of these teenagers. To be honest, he's only a few years older than them, but he feels like a disgruntled grandfather taking care of many, many toddlers. The sea of expectant eyes upon him is an odd feeling. He has never been in charge of this many students.

"What about you, kiddo?" Jeralt asks. Byleth is still tucked close to his side. Without even letting Byleth know, he rummages through his bag and lifts out a packet of tea leaves as well as a frankly embarrassing amount of fish bait.

"Only the essentials," Byleth tells him with a blank face. He wonders if this is what it felt like to be thoroughly and rightfully embarrassed.

Jeralt gives him a look.

Byleth stares back.

Silence.

"Um, hello," Claude says. Still, neither Byleth nor his father stop their staring. Finally cowed, Byleth glances away. He lost. 

"That's what I thought," Jeralt admonishes, taking out most of the fish bait and tea, tucking them under his arm. "Ah, don't give me those eyes, kiddo. You can buy all this crap in villages you pass."

Byleth's face is very blank, but his father is wonderful and has always understood him. But he doesn't think that he is giving his father any sort of eyes.

"Nothing about his face has changed," a student whispers. 

"You're not coming, sir Jeralt?" Dimitri asks, eyes wide in confusion. "I'm very surprised."

Jeralt shrugs. "Got stuff I need to do. Byleth is enough to take care of all you brats." A warm, steady hand places itself onto Byleth's shoulder and pulls him in, and Byleth relishes in the contact. "Don't worry."

The mercenaries start a racket. "And I guess they're there too." Jeralt says, voice fighting a laugh. 

"That's right," Byleth says suddenly, rummaging in his bag. "Here. I have brought this for you." He pulls out three long capes with hoods and winces when they jostle everything in his satchel. 

"Dimitri," Byleth calls. Eagerly, the boy practically bounces over to Byleth's side. Byleth swears that he sees ears and a tail wagging. "This is for you. Please wear it when we are outside. I wouldn't want anyone to know who you are and attack you."

"Of course," Dimitri agrees easily, taking one of the capes from Byleth's hands. In one swift motion, he pulls it over his shoulders. "Thank you for thinking so far in advance, professor."

Byleth raises his shoulders very slightly in a shrug. "Claude."

"Yeah, yeah," Claude says, walking up to Byleth and taking a cape. "Come on professor. No one would target lil ol' me. And this cape looks so stuffy."

Turning his head away, Byleth's eyes fall onto Edelgard. He can feel his posture becoming more tense, and he really hopes that no one has noticed. His lips part, but when he tries to speak, he stumbles over her name in a quick huff of air.

"...Princess," Byleth says. 

Honestly, he can't even bring himself to even say her name at the moment. Byleth has the urge to run the girl through with his sword so that she nor her loyal right hand would come with them. He already knows that it would be difficult to sleep with her there, knowing that she could slip a knife into his students' chests and disappear into the night. Or she could poison their flasks and food. Or take someone hostage. Or-

Then again, it would be best to have Edelgard far, far away from the academy, for Byleth to have a careful eye over every single one of her actions. Byleth already knows how she attempted to try and kill Dimitri and Claude earlier, under the guise of bandits attempting to kill them instead.

An option was to get separated from the rest of the students and then Byleth would quickly separate Edelgard's head from her shoulders. And then, Hubert next. Or perhaps he would start with him-

_-El!_

Byleth clenches his fists at his side. One thing at a time. At least a band of knights were not accompanying them. Byleth shall never forget any of what happened between Ashe and Lonato because of their interference. 

But in this moment, he would honestly prefer their presence over Edelgard, of all people.

"Princess," Byleth repeats, squaring his shoulders. 

Edelgard strolls up to him and gently lifts the cape from his arms. Byleth can see the most faint hint of confusion upon her face. "...Thank you, professor. Always one step ahead."

She slings the cape over her shoulders and draws the hood up, and just then do Seteth, Rhea, and Sothis arrive.

"I don't think that it is a good idea to bring all of the students with us," Byleth begins, in lieu of a greeting. He can't help but glare at Rhea, although it is really just a narrowing of his eyes. "Especially the nobility."

Especially _Edelgard._

Rhea folds her fingers together with a smile. "I trust that you will be able to take care of them, no?"

"No," Byleth blurts.

"You must have more faith in yourself, professor," Rhea tells him, voice as sweet as spun sugar. "You shall not be alone. The goddess is always with you. You have brought your capable mercenaries. Seteth shall be coming along."

"I don't-"

"Worry not," Sothis butts in, twisting a long lock of green hair around one dainty finger, "come back whenever. Return at your leisure."

Byleth whirls on her. "...I do not feel comfortable bringing those people along. It might be... dangerous." Dangerous for whom, Byleth had yet to know. 

_Sothis how could you let this happen._

Sothis narrows her eyes.

** _Byleth, I really do believe that the best option is to keep that girl away from the academy for now. Trust me._ ** __

_But I really dislike her. Besides, I don't think it's safe for Edelgard to be anywhere near my students. I don't know what I should do._

_ **I'm pretty sure that Edelgard has a weird fascination with you.** _

_Huh?_

_ **I think that she has realized that you have something in common with her. Something very unique, and that is what draws her eye. For now, since you're around, she likely will not try anything.** _

_Is it because we both have weird hair colours?_

_ **...You must be joking.** _

_Fine. But it is the 'likely' that worries me. If she tries anything..._

_ **Well, you have my full and eager permission to kill her. Whatever you choose, I will support you, Byleth.** _

_And if I took my sword and cut her head off right now?_

_ **You know that I would be the one handing you the sword and cheering you on. Remember who this is for.** _

_How could I forget?_

"It seems as if you can communicate wordlessly with the goddess too," Claude says suddenly.

Byleth frowns, blinking. "Hmm. What do you mean, Claude?"

The boy shrugs, with a smile that was far too bright for dawn. "I mean, you had this weird mental connection with your dad earlier, too."

"I can read minds," Byleth says, monotone. He absolutely cannot.

"Oh yeah?" Claude challenges, still beaming. "What am I thinking, right now?"

"Shall I really reveal your thoughts, Claude?" Sothis cuts in. "You're thinking about what you think about Byleth, again."

"Again?!" Dimitri exclaims, then coughs really loudly, looking embarrassed about his volume.

Claude does not miss a beat, and throws an arm over Byleth's shoulders. His hand brushes Jeralt's and the man stares at him. Claude seems as if he is not at all bothered in the slightest. "My best friend is always on my mind," Claude says solemnly, looking quite mischievous. 

"Rude," Hilda calls out, her voice sleepy.

"I can have multiple best friends," Claude shoots back. "And both of mine are oh so pretty, how could they ever leave my mind?"

Jeralt turns his head to look at Claude and the boy rips his arm from Byleth's shoulders as if it were lava. "Haha," Claude says. "Ha..."

"Should we depart now?" Byleth asks, rolling his neck around casually and revelling in the cracks it makes. "We should be going."

"Well, our first destination shouldn't be too far," Seteth says. 

Byleth doesn't even look his way. "All of our destinations are at least a week's march from the academy."

Seteth coughs, sounding awkward. "Forgive me. It seems that I have neglected to inform you yesterday, professor. In order to stock up supplies and prep the students for the most of the march, since not many of them can ride horses or winged creatures- we are stopping at Remire village for the evening. It is a day's march, at most, and would be a good pit stop."

"You must be joking," Byleth and Sothis say, in perfect unison. 

"You didn't know?" Byleth asks.

Sothis folds her arms across her chest and taps her foot against the the floor to an impatient and quick rhythm. "I would not have allowed this otherwise."

"I thought that..." Seteth trails off, and then frowns deeply. "You wouldn't mind being there. Wouldn't a familiar village set you at ease? Alois did say that he had found all of you there."

Byleth cannot fault Seteth's sudden confusion, but... "No," Byleth says. "We can sleep literally anywhere else."

"Didn't you come from Remire, professor?" Edelgard asks. It is very, very odd to hear her call him that, although Byleth has never realized until now.

"No."

Silence. 

"...Ah," Edelgard replies, softer than ever. 

"Aww, but professor," Annette whines. "Doesn't the appeal of an actual bed before a long journey sound sweet to you?"

"You slept in an actual bed last night," Byleth reminds her. Annette looks sheepish.

"Come ooooon, professor!" Hilda complains, yawning into her hands. "What's the big deal?!"

There was really no big deal, in theory. Byleth had killed that Solon man long ago. He barely even remembered his face. But that didn't mean that someone else like him would not stir things up in that peaceful little village and cause ruin again.

"Byleth," Sothis calls. "It should be fine. And if anything like that happens, you know what to do."

The goddess eyes him meaningfully.

"Of course," Byleth tells her. 

Sothis sighs and draws Byleth into her arms. "Goodness, you're all grown up now. Going out on adventures, killing things, how very mature."

"I'm an adult," Byleth says, as if she did not know. Still, he allows himself to be pulled into her arms, and even wraps his own around her. He even picks her up and spins her around, and Sothis shrieks, but it's a joyous, happy sound.

"Put me down right this instant, you heathen!" She says, although she makes no room to move. Byleth puts her down onto the ground obediently after a moment more, and she swipes at invisible dirt on her dress with a scowl on her face.

"If you die," Sothis tells him, "I will kill you." 

The goddess' eyes are _glowing._

Byleth cannot help the smallest quirk of his lips. "I'll already be dead if I die," Byleth says smoothly. 

Sothis rolls her eyes at the statement. "You underestimate me, Byleth."

Suddenly, Byleth is pulled into another person's arms again. It's his father. Byleth gingerly wraps arms around his father's waist and sighs. He feels like a child, but he has no intention of letting go of this man.

"Godspeed, Byleth," Jeralt murmurs. His voice is muffled now, lips pressed to the crown of his head. "Come back safely. And don't die."

Byleth hums, and the sound reverberates into Jeralt's chest. "You too."

.

It takes thirty minutes for Byleth to actually relax and enjoy the scenery of the world around him. The students are peppy with excitement, chattering and laughing to themselves. They seemed to have all congregated amongst each other, gossiping about trivial matters and what they think what the Saints look like. It's quite surprising to Byleth that they all get along so very easily. All the Houses seem as one. Petra is talking to Ignatz about something, her accent catching onto words, but her tone is still bright. Hilda and and Annette are trying to make Dedue smile, to no avail. Even Dimitri and Claude are talking. They look like simple students now, rather than young nobles of the highest power, joking and smiling.

The only ones not involved are Edelgard and Hubert. Something vicious and pleased fills Byleth's chest at the sight. It's bitter and petty of him, but very satisfying.

This, of course, is all accompanied by the mercenaries loud singing and boisterous laughter. They're clapping and hollering to a beat they alone can hear.

Byleth, too, feels great.

He finds himself humming along to the tune, note clear and bright. It's a song he recognizes, a song they have all sang many times before. Something about a siren? Byleth doesn't know, nor does he care. The beat is the only thing that catches his attention and lifts his mood. Everyone is walking to the beat. 

They all had collectively decided that for now, they would not ride their animals and keep as much stress off of them as possible. Under the supervision of the mercenaries, the steeds follow. Including Seteth's wyvern, which he was especially excited about. But for some odd reason, the Blue Lions refused to let him even near the wyvern. 

"...How did you sleep last night?" Seteth asks him, out of the blue. Byleth supposes he feels like the odd man out here. He looked as if he wanted to scold the students and the mercenaries for being loud at such an ungodly time in the morning, but one look at their expressions had dashed his plot. 

"You do not have to attempt to make small talk with me," Byleth says, looking straight ahead. "I am aware you dislike me."

The students directly behind them have fallen silent. Byleth pays it no need. By now, he's used to the confusing and downright unrealistic thoughts and actions of the Blue Lions. If he didn't understand them, he definitely would not understand the odd nature of the other classes by now.

"I don't..." Seteth takes a deep breath. "I do not dislike you. I just do not- did not trust you at all."

He already misses Sothis' casual, sarcastic remarks.

_ **I'm still here, genius.** _

Byleth decides to ignore her.

_ **You know I know when you want to ignore me, right?** _

_I am not speaking to you until you finish your paperwork._

_ **Ugh.** _

Byleth does not feel like answering Seteth, so he does not. The man fidgets awkwardly at his side. "Have I thanked you for helping Flayn yet?"

"Mm."

To be quite honest, Byleth wanted to have a conversation with him, but he was quite sleepy, and had virtually no interest in small talk. He missed their friendship in his past life, the easy silence and their tea parties. Byleth should focus more on their relationship. If only his father didn't take most of the tea from his bags, he would have invited Seteth to a cup once they reached Remire-

"D-do you know the name of my wyvern?" Seteth asks.

It is like oil to a lit flame. Byleth whirls so fast on Seteth that the man actually steps a little bit back. "I do not," Byleth tells him, an edge of brightness in his words. Seteth looks very thrown by the sudden change in attitude.

"I named her Libelle," Seteth tells him, eyes nervously darting around.

"What a wonderful name," Byleth says honestly. "I've always thought that she was a lovely wyvern. Thank you for telling me her name."

Seteth actually grins at him. "If you like wyverns so much, professor, why not get one? You are surely skilled enough to learn to ride one, unless you know how already."

"I know how," Byleth replies, and then frowns slightly. "My father has forbidden me to get one though."

"Oh?" Seteth asks, sounding genuinely interested. "Well, you are an adult. Surely you can get one for yourself."

Byleth shakes his head. "I cannot. I actually agree with him. I may endanger the wyvern."

Seteth says nothing, but his gaze insists that Byleth elaborate, so Byleth does. "One of our missions when I was younger was to take down a group of highly skilled bandits which all rode wyverns. We were hired to take care of them. So I rode atop one of the mercenaries' pegasi while we were in the air, jumped off of them, and landed on one of the bandit's wyverns and wrestled control from him as we plummeted to the earth."

"That sounds incredibly dangerous!" Seteth exclaims. "How could you do such a thing?!"

Byleth shrugs. "I have fought wyverns before, and emerged victorious."

"How?" Someone blurts from behind him. It's Raphael. "You don't look that strong or muscly, professor!"

He now realizes that all of the students' eyes are on him. "I am stronger than I look."

"But still..." Bernadetta blurts, and then squeals when everyone looks at her. "That sounds.... so.... terrifying!!!"

"How did you beat them, professor?" Felix demands, eyes practically glowing, although his gaze is quite fierce.

"I took them by the horns and grappled with them," Byleth tells them. "And overcame them with my own bare hands. I don't need a sword to take them down. It generally works for most creatures. Grab and twist."

The students are in awe. "Please do not attempt this," Byleth tells them. "I am only capable of it because I am strong."

Felix opens his mouth and Ingrid pulls at his cheek.

"Would you hurt a wyvern in your care?" Seteth asks.

Byleth shakes his head. "No. My father is only worried that I will pull stunts like that again. I am upset, however. Wyverns are very cute."

"Did you say that you rode a pegasi?" Dimitri asks. "I thought that pegasi did not allow male riders upon their back."

"It was only for a moment," Byleth says. 

"You are quite the incredible mercenary, professor." Edelgard tells him. Byleth hums in response, turning away. They continue their walk, Seteth apparently now satisfied with their talk.

"I have a mission for you all," he says, while the sun is high in the sky. Byleth waits for their attention. "You must hunt or forage for lunch. Or you don't eat at all."

"We have rations right in our bags, professor." Hilda exclaims, looking absolutely distraught at the thought of doing any more work besides walking. "We can just eat those."

Byleth just shakes his head. "No. Save your rations for when we need them."

"But we need them now," she insists. 

"No," Byleth shoots the idea down. "Say we're in the desert. No forest to look for animals or berries, and no water. And we ate our rations here, so we cannot reach into our bags and simply take out food. No. When there is food available all around us, we must focus on that."

Hilda opens her mouth, and then slams it shut. "Why don't we just not go to the desert," she whines, and Byleth ignores her.

The only house that looks completely confident are the Blue Lions. They talk to each other for a moment, looking bright and cheerful, and disperse in different directions. The other houses follow.

"Oh, and make sure not to eat any berries, plants, or mushrooms you do not know," Byleth calls. He gets vague sounds as reply, which is honestly good enough for him.

"Very insightful," Seteth comments. "Teaching them skills such as this is very important."

"I'm actually just stalling," Byleth mutters, running a hand over his face. "I do not wish to go to Remire village."

"What did you say, professor?" Seteth asks, face dipping into a frown.

"Nothing."

.

There is an insistent knock at Sothis' door, one that she ignores vehemently. If it was Seiros, she will not open the door. Technically, it is Byleth's door, but there was a non verbalized agreement that this room belonged to both Byleth and Sothis, ergo, her door.

Her daughter had been annoyingly persistent about her moving into a room closer to Seiros, or better yet, move into her own room.

No matter who was in the room, if Sothis was there, Seiros' focus would be on her mother and her mother alone. It was eerie to say the least, but it was not as if Sothis did not understand.

When Byleth had fallen into an abyss and had slept to heal his wounds and painstakingly stitch every part of skin and bone and blood and gore back together, Sothis had hated how she was trapped within the confines of his brain, waiting for a person who was more dead than alive.

Sothis thinks that Seiros found her body first.

That vision- of Seiros pressing the bloody Sword of the Creator to her cheek with a smile like blooming flowers- made Sothis want to shake.

What sort of sight had her children been exposed to? How could the Agarthans be so cruel- to rip bone and body apart and create weapons to kill what remained of their people? How could anyone stand to watch as they created beasts from their bodies?

Sothis understood. 

Seiros' intent gaze. Her words, her actions. The way her eyes danced over Byleth's chest. Her face when Sothis had declared that she had no intention to force the people to follow her. 

That was why Sothis should not tell her about Edelgard. 

She had thought about it, very briefly. Actually, their pasts were rather similar in the most unfortunate way possible. 

Sothis sighs. 

Another knock.

"Who is it?!" Sothis snaps, running fingers through her hair.

"It's Jeralt," the voice says, after a moment.

Sothis hums and turns her attention back to the letters on the desk. "Come in."

With permission granted, Jeralt opens the door and settles to sit on the bed behind her. Sothis does not look up or greet him. Instead, her focus remains on the letters, furiously absorbing the contents. 

"Who is it this time?" Jeralt asks, voice thick with something Sothis has no time to read into.

Sothis clears her throat and flicks at the letter. "Ahem ahem. Duke Aegir shall blah blah blah blah something something he's coming to offer something to the great and holy goddess, and so on and so forth."

"It's a miracle that Ferdinand boy turned out so bright if his father is the type to write 'blah blah blah' onto letters," Jeralt points out. Sothis can hear him stretching behind her, joints popping.

"He didn't actually write that," Sothis says, "and I doubt that he wrote this letter at all. From what I've heard, he's quite the arrogant one. I didn't even invite him."

"You didn't need to," Jeralt points out. "In the end, it was them who reached out to you. No noble wants to be on your bad side for the 'second coming of the Goddess' or whatever bullshit they're calling it."

Sothis rolls her eyes. "I am glad, though. I didn't want to stoop so low as inviting them myself. I imagine their massive egos will just inflate and make them float up all the up to the heavens if they received a letter from the goddess themselves. Besides. The Empire has not wanted anything to do with the church until _somebody_ started spreading rumors about a woman who turned into a dragon."

"That was all your daughter, I guess." Jeralt chuckles. "Apparently, there's posters and pamphlets. Lucky you."

"Likely," Sothis says, trying not to roll her eyes back into her skull out of frustration. "By now she has likely announced my presence to everyone in Fódlan. I'm just lucky Byleth was asleep for most of it. Have you any other business with me or can I get back to work?"

Jeralt sighs. "I just have three things."

"That is a great amount," Sothis informs him. "I'm a very busy goddess, you know."

"Yeah?" Jeralt plays along.

"Yes. I must set these letter aflame after dinner. You see, their arrogance is wafting off of the paper and stinking up the air."

"How terribly difficult."

"You have no idea," Sothis agrees, then pushes away from the desk, finally turning to look at the man. "So? What do you want?"

"One," Jeralt says, raising a finger. "You gotta tell me who's coming to grant you gifts or whatever. Two, you come bar hopping with me. Three, I'll let you know when we actually get a pint."

Sothis cannot lie, the idea is tempting. She would rather stare at a jug than the ridiculous loopy letters that likely were not even in that Duke's handwriting. "Okay. First, from the kingdom of Faerghus, there's..."

.

A boy sweeps out past Sothis on her way to the audience hall. 

Violet hair and matching eyeshadow. A sharp jaw and perfect posture. He has the sort of androgynous beauty that Sothis always thought that Byleth possesses, long lashes, clear skin and perfect eyebrows. The only reason he catches her eye is because neither Byleth nor Sothis has seen him before. The members of the clergy, as well as the guards look at him with flushed faces and bashful glances. He seems to bask in the attention like a flower does in sunlight.

A sword rests on his hip. Sothis is more intrigued by that, rather than his face, which is twisted into a sharp, glossy smirk.

They make eye contact. 

Sothis walks past the boy.

.

"How did she take it?" Jeralt asks, looking more loose than Sothis has ever seen him. It's odd. Maybe it's something about what he wants to ask her.

The town was oddly loud for evening. The people were buzzing. Sothis guesses that they did hear the rumors about her. She can see hands pressed together in prayer and travelers and stalls selling little brooches with symbols of the church displayed on them. Honestly, Seiros was doing a good job about keeping this from her, but by actively enjoying her idea to invite nobles and fitting her for white dresses, she knew that Sothis wanted her to make an actual appearance in front of Fódlan. 

Sothis had no interest, honestly. 

First, before the questions the people must have for her-

Jeralt's questions.

She can't say that she'll have an answer, or whether or not he'll like it, but he was Byleth's father, which meant Sothis did care for him, and did owe him a huge debt. 

Sothis shrugs. "Seiros was so upset. She said 'don't take even one step outside the door before I come back because I am going to introduce you to someone' or something like that. I don't understand her. I'm a grown goddess, I can go drinking if I want to. And I'm her mother!"

Jeralt chuckles. "Byleth yells at me too. So what did you do?"

The goddess raises an eyebrow, a self satisfied grin appearing on her face. "Of course I listen to my daughter. I did not take one step outside the door. I leapt from the window."

Byleth's father bursts into snorts. "You didn't break it, did you?"

With a swatting hand motion, she brushes the comment away, as if it were something physical. "What do you take me for? I phased through the window. Obviously."

"Obviously," Jeralt repeats, almost sarcastic.

"Let's cut to the chase," Sothis says, eyes on a bracelet in a wooden stall. 

"Not here," he says, still looking relaxed. "Someone's been looking at us."

"I'm just that beautiful," Sothis says with ease, but says nothing more. "Shall we head to a bar, or keep walking around?"

"Bar," Jeralt replies. "If I'm right, that person won't show themselves within the building. They like showing up on their horse, and I doubt they could fit through the door."

"Death Knight?" Sothis murmurs, still a skip in her step. 

"Likely."

Sothis hums. "Should I kill him?"

"I wouldn't be upset," Jeralt says truthfully, as he pulls open the door to a quaint looking pub for Sothis to step through. "But one of Byleth's students would be."

"How bothersome," Sothis says, stepping inside and looking at the patrons. "Whatever. It is fine. Let's take a seat."

They find a little corner and slide onto the stools. The lady serving asks if Sothis is even an adult, and she frowns at the woman and tells her that she's older than her. Jeralt watches on, eyes twinkling with amusement. 

The barmaid soon returns with two hugs of something that looks distinctly like piss, especially Sothis' drink. It looks as if it's been watered down, and the froth drips over the rim. It looks highly unappetizing to Sothis, but Jeralt takes a glug, and now Sothis has to.

She takes a sip and gags. 

"That's horrible," Sothis declares, wiping at her mouth. "Why do you even like that shit?"

Jeralt makes a move to grab her jug and Sothis pulls it closer to her. "No, Byleth would be upset if I let you drink any more."

"Fine," Jeralt says, voice still at the same tone, but he looks slightly chided now that Byleth was brought up. "Okay, we can talk now."

Sothis kicks her feet out from under the table. "Yeah? Okay, I'll do my best to answer, alright?"

Jeralt meets Sothis' eyes. "Is Byleth immortal?"

Not the question that she was expecting. Sothis taps her fingers lightly against the side of her cup. "That's a rather random question. But I do not mind answering. Why is it that you ask? Do you suspect something?"

Jeralt takes a another swig of his terrible, bitter ale. "You must know that Rhea gave me her blood."

Sothis jolts. "She WHAT?!"

Everyone in the pub turns to her, and then back around. 

Jeralt sighs. "Yeah. I got seriously injured on a mission protecting her, and she asked if I wanted to live. Lo and behold, here I am. Years and years later, without another second added to my life."

"...That alone would not be able to pass on her blood." Sothis informs him. "Not many people can handle it."

"I'm not really asking because of what happened with me," Jeralt explains, looking back down to his drink. "I'm asking because of Sitri."

Ah. Byleth's mother, and Jeralt's wife. Creation of Seiros. 

"To be honest," Sothis begins slowly, "Sitri is a mystery to me. And I don't even know where these questions are coming from. But..."

"But?"

"Byleth is a special existence," Sothis continues. "In more ways than one. If he was immortal, what would you do?"

Jeralt shrugs. "Nothing. He's my son. We'll just continue life as always, because I don't think I'll age much either."

"And if he wasn't?"

Jeralt meets her gaze. "Then I'll-"

Sothis raises her hand, and Jeralt stops speaking immediately, frozen in his seat. A thick surge of killing intent wafts through the pub, so infectious and dangerous that even the regular people in the pub have become quiet, stopping whatever they were doing.

"I grow tired of waiting outside," the Death Knight hisses, as he pushes through the doors of the pub. Sothis rolls her eyes.

The people in the bar scream and scatter, breaking windows and running out the back to escape from him.

He has no eyes for the common folk, however. The Death Knight's gaze lies upon Sothis and Jeralt. Sothis yawns. "Have you come to play?"

"Tell me where that man has taken that woman."

"Byleth?" Sothis asks, grinning. Her hands spark with power. "Use your words, mister Death Knight."

Silence. The pub has been cleared out.

"If we're going to play," Sothis says, eyes glowing a bright green, "you should at least tell me when."

"Don't," Jeralt interrupts her.

Sothis frowns at him. "You better not give me that 'Byleth wouldn't be happy' spiel. Byleth is not here."

Jeralt shakes his head, a small, devious grin transforming his face. "Not that. I want to be the one that has a round with him." He cracks his knuckles. "After all, he's the one that laid hands on my son, after all."

Sothis leans back in her chair, adamantly impressed. There were more similarities between Jeralt and his son after all. "Well? Don't let me stop you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW I ALWAYS LIKE TO LEAVE SHIT ON CLIFFHANGERS BUT. IM JUST GONNA TELL YOU THAT JERALT IS ACTUALLY GONNA THROW HANDS FOR REALSIES YES THERE GON BE A FIGHT SCENE
> 
> next time on godspeed z! byleth and edelgard talk over a campfire and make subtle threats that aren't subtle for shit! jeralt throws hands! look forward to it!
> 
> as of this chapter we have hit 200000 words. fucking this is unfuckingreal thank you guys for being on this ride with byleth and i!
> 
> thank you so very much for reading ♡
> 
> byleth/dimitri B rank  
byleth/dedue C+ rank  
byleth/felix B rank  
byleth/annette B rank  
byleth/ingrid C+ rank  
byleth/sylvain B rank  
byleth/mercedes C+ rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt B rank  
byleth/ferdinand C+ rank  
byleth/lysithea C+ rank  
byleth/cyril C+ rank  
byleth/flayn B rank  
byleth/caspar C+ rank  
byleth/dorothea C+ rank
> 
> byleth/jeritza C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/sothis A rank  
byleth/claude C rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea C+ rank


	33. youth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS IM SO SOSOSOOSOS SORRY IM TOTALLY BEHIND ON COMMENTS AAAAAA I PROMISE ILL ANSWER THEM ALL SOON THIS WEEK HAS BEEN KINDA CRAZY
> 
> gosh again i hope you guys are staying safe and healthy! make sure to keep proper hygiene yall.
> 
> onto the chapter!

A single snowflake falls onto Byleth's nose and melts instantaneously there. The light falling of snow reminds him of powdered sugar atop one of Mercedes' pastries. He goes cross eyed blinking at it, but only for a moment, for there are more pressing matters at hand.

"Please do not eat the weeds," Byleth and Dedue say in sync. Dimitri looks thoroughly embarrassed.

The thick foliage of the forest was indeed a good place to forage and look for edible plants and small animals, but Byleth absolutely did not trust Dimitri to figure out the difference between what weeds were edible and which were not.

Byleth turns toward Dedue and stretches his hands out. He intended for them to clasp their hands together in harmonious friendship, but Dedue only blinks and leans in for a hug. Byleth cannot say that he is disappointed. Dedue is apparently a wonderful hugger, and he realizes this as he is brought into his arms.

Each and every single day, he learned something new about his students.

Including the fact that Dimitri made the oddest faces. 

"Would you like a hug," Byleth asks, when he parts from Dedue's surprisingly warm embrace.

Dimitri sputters at him, so he guesses that it's a no. Understandable. It would be weird to hug your professor. But why then, did Dedue go for the hug? Well, Byleth was not complaining. 

"Professor!" Edelgard calls, walking up to him with a self satisfied smile on her face, Hubert right on her heels. Byleth cannot help but to have his eyes stray to his sleeves. "I brought these berries."

Byleth regards the small, blue berries in her hands. Hubert must be carrying the most of them. "Do you think that they are not poisonous?"

Edelgard's grin dips into a pleased smirk. Her cheeks are pink with the chill. "Professor, I do know a lot about poisonous berries, mushrooms, and other plants." 

He eyes the berries instead of her face. "Indeed. These are not poisonous." Byleth does not even spare Edelgard a glance. "Commendable."

Before he has to acknowledge that person's existence any longer than he has to, Annette and Ferdinand stumble over with berries that are a bright, disastrous looking shade of green. "Professor!" Ferdinand calls. "Annette and I found some berries that are definitely poisonous and that we shouldn't consume in the slightest!"

"Look at how heinous they look, professor!" Annette agrees, looking far too pleased about the seriously poisonous berries. "They look as if they could seriously do some real damage!"

Byleth stares.

A soft sounds leaves his lips, and he finds the corners of his mouth tilting up. "Pft. Then why did you bring them over?"

The students stare at him with big, round eyes, then burst into huge grins. "Tee hee," Annette giggles, fingers pressed to her lips. 

Claude suddenly emerges from the brush, ignoring Leonie and Lorenz's loud bickering behind them. Byleth almost tenses. He does not know how to handle any of them. In Claude's hands is a small rabbit. 

"Caught this, professor!" Claude declares, grinning.

"Hello, Claude. Congratulations," Byleth greets. "Where is Seteth. I thought that he went off with all of you?"

Claude's smile only grows. "With Hilda," he says, as if that would explain everything. It does.

Byleth knows of her notorious attempts to try and get out of doing work. "I see," Byleth says.

Just as suddenly, Ashe and Felix stumble out of the woods, and Ashe points an accusing finger at Claude. The boy looks as if he is completely out of breath.

"Professor!" Ashe calls, looking distraught. Claude is cheerfully whistling, as if he is not in the direct view of Byleth's careful gaze. "Claude's satchel is moving mysteriously!"

The bag is indeed oddly lumpy, and writhing around, making chittering and high pitched sounds. Whatever it is, it likely is not happy to be shoved inside of Claude's satchel.

Byleth narrows his eyes. "Claude, what did you bring? Pets and the like will be difficult to care for on our journey."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he says, and freezes under Byleth's stare.

"Claude."

"That's my name!"

Claude is not quick enough to dodge Byleth's lunge for his bag. He whines very loudly as Byleth opens the pack and sees-

"A wyvern," Byleth breathes, lifting them out of the bag. 

The little thing is a shade lighter than the snow falling around them, and they sneeze as soon as they leave the bag, making small, nervous sounds. Byleth examines the small wyvern with shining eyes. It's too cute. Far too cute. Far too familiar.

Then he realizes where he saw this creature before.

_Byleth runs his hand through his hair, blood soaked bangs trailing across his face. The field is littered with bodies. In his immediate area, he is the only one who stands back up. He flicks his sword, and a few stray drops of blood are flung from the tip of the blade. A brief moment of darkness falls over him, and Byleth instinctively rolls out of the way._

_What lands in his former place is a grand, snow-white wyvern who roars so loud the earth trembles. Byleth allows himself to admire them for a moment, eyes trailing across pearly scales and glimmering rows of sharp teeth._

_"Professor," Claude greets, not lowering his bow for even a moment. He looks like a king above his steed. _

_Byleth grips onto the Sword of the Creator like a lifeline. He does not want to-_

"Professor?" Dimitri asks, cutting Byleth out of his daydreams. "Are you alright?" 

"I am fine, Dimitri," Byleth says, focusing back on the tiny wyvern. They coo. Byleth is in love. He wonders if he can steal them away from Claude. With a free hand, he scratches the top of the wyvern's head, and is pleased when they too, seem content. 

Claude watches them with a smile. "Cute, aren't they? I received them as a gift. They only just hatched a few nights back."

"Is this what you hid behind your back the other night," Byleth asks, not looking away from the wyvern. Claude bursts into laughter.

"Yeah, I guess I can't hide anything from you!" Claude agrees, nodding. "She's a pretty one, ain't she?"

Ashe and Annette approach, twin expressions of 'aww' on their face. "Does she have a name?" Annette asks, hesitantly reaching out to pat the wyvern.

"Nope," Claude says. "Got any ideas?"

"I like the name Tabbris," Dimitri offers, now approaching too. 

Annette is making funny faces at the wyvern. "What about Cupcake?"

"That's just what you want to eat," Ashe teases. "What about... Hm. This is more difficult than I thought."

Byleth looks at the wyvern. "What about Khalid?" 

Claude stills. "Haha, professor, isn't that normally a guy's name?" His smile is almost too big now. Byleth cannot look at him directly. 

"Names do not have to be correlated with any gender," Byleth disagrees, shaking his head. "I just like the sound of the name. Apparently, it is a popular name in the Alliance for some reason."

"Have you been there, professor?" Felix asks, eyes suspiciously still on the wyvern. 

"I've been everywhere," Byleth informs him. "Come now. We must look for the others."

.

Byleth eyes the spread of food the students have brought back. Berries, nuts, and small animals. Dimitri had even caught a carp in the stream nearby, by stabbing his lance into the water and hoping for the best. Byleth is surprised that he did not somehow break the stream entirely. They were lucky that it was not yet cold enough to freeze over.

"None of you ate anything yet, correct?" Byleth asks. They all nod. "Good. Because if you had ingested some of these berries, you would have died very slowly and very painfully. You would turn blue, then green, and then expel everything in your stomach. Rashes would appear all over your body, you would bloat, and then you would die."

Even the most rowdy of students are still. Byleth is not good at this. He was hoping that Manuela or Hanneman would come along, but apparently not. Even Seteth is silent. Byleth wonders if he knew all of this already.

Byleth points at the green and white berries. "Please avoid these colours if you enjoy living. There are no white berries in this environment, but avoid those too. In fact, if you do not recognize a berry, do not eat them at all. Risk starvation over poisoning you may not be able to cure. If the stems are spiny, spiky, or vibrant colours avoid what grows on them as well. Even the red and blue berries can be dangerous. If you are unsure, mash one up against your skin and wait for a reaction."

Silence. "So we messed up, is what you're saying," Claude says. 

Byleth shakes his head. "Better to learn now instead of later." He points at the base of a tree. "Those dandelions are much safer. In fact, I'm surprised most of you went with berries instead of animals. There was a stream, and animal tracks, which would have been better to follow instead of the possibility of dying painfully from unknown berries. I am glad none of you picked mushrooms, because I am not sure any of you have knowledge about them. They too, should not be ingested unless you are very, very certain you know what they are."

"You're quite knowledgeable about this, professor," Linhardt says softly. 

Byleth shrugs. "These are things that I had to learn. Now come. I shall teach you how to prepare a fish and a rabbit."

Even the squeamish huddle in closer to watch as Byleth prepares both animals with a deft hand. Blood seeps into his gloves as he takes them to the river to clean them out. 

"Start a fire," Byleth informs them, standing. "This is not enough for all of us. I shall look for edible mushrooms and more meat."

"I can follow," Edelgard offers, standing and wiping dirt off of her clothes. 

Byleth would rather not. "No thank you. Please stay with the others, princess." Byleth turns toward the forest. "With me."

The Blue Lions scramble up, but the mercenaries wave them away, following Byleth with a skip in their step. "Seteth," Byleth says, "look after them."

They step out of the clearing and Byleth gets straight to work looking for edible plants, digging into the hard dirt to grab at their roots. He finds wild chives, surprisingly, and works to pull them out of the ground.

A rabbit hops by. Byleth does not even look at it. He pulls a dagger from his cloak- not Airgetlam, goddess knows how it would affect the meat- and it hits true.

Slow clapping appears out of nowhere. Byleth makes a guess. "Claude, you should help the others."

"I am," he grins, kneeling down next to Byleth to help pull chives from the dirt. "I'm helping you, aren't I?"

Byleth shrugs at the admission and busies himself with the remaining plants.

"Professor, I've got a question," Claude asks. 

"What is it?" Byleth responds, standing and wiping dirt from his knees. "I already decided to let you keep the wyvern with us."

Claude stands too, not bothering to wipe the dirt from his clothes. "Why do you call the princess 'princess' and Dimitri and I by our names?"

Observant as ever. 

"Shall I call you prince too then?" 

Claude looks as if he's been slapped across the face and then Byleth realizes why. He hasn't exactly confessed to his true identity yet. And even in his past life, he did not spell it outright. Byleth had puzzled it out when he handed them Failnaught.

He is honestly surprised that the boy reacted, even the slightest little bit. Then again, Claude may be of sharp wit and clever tongue, but he still was not as put together as the man from Byleth's future past. 

Byleth tilts his head and turns his wrists out very slightly to look as non threatening and innocuous as possible. "I am just kidding." 

When Claude blinks, there's a different light in his eyes. Byleth has not spent enough time with him to know what it was, but he hopes that Claude does not try and kill him in his sleep. 

"I like the sound of that title," Claude jokes. "But seriously, why?"

"I like you both more than her," Byleth answers, and that, at least, is honest. Claude laughs and drapes himself over Byleth's side.

It is odd, how Claude clings to him. He does not mind, but it is still very odd to Byleth. Touch outside of his immediate family, like his father or the mercenaries, is odd. 

"Let me let you in on a secret," Claude whispers conspiratorially, almost skipping. 

Byleth leans in so Claude can whisper in his ear. "I like you both better, too." Claude says, a little laugh escaping his lips.

Byleth closes his eyes and tries not to sigh. Claude was very difficult to understand at times.

"I'll accept that answer," Claude says sweetly. 

_For now_ lies unspoken between them.

.

"Civilization!" Hilda declares, as soon as Remire village is in sight. 

Of course, the houses are still intact. No one is screaming, or dying, or losing their minds. No one is clawing at skin and bone. No one is begging their children to run. Nothing is on fire. Nothing is wrong.

Byleth can see people weave in and out of houses and buildings, small children playing in the snow, and just general harmony.

Still, he cannot help his glance at Dimitri. The prince catches his eye and smiles at Byleth, albeit a bit bashfully. Byleth wonders why.

The snow was still light, but now there was enough of it to crunch underneath Byleth's shoes. He wonders if their safe house was still intact. 

"Keep your hoods up," Byleth murmurs. The royals nod, including even Claude. They walk into the village.

People stare at them. Of course. What an odd group that they made. A handful of people with hoods. Two people with green hair, leading their group. A band of mercenaries behind some young looking individuals. Byleth was just surprised no one had ran from them yet. 

The sudden silence is abruptly broken by a small child with gap teeth. "Ah!" She points, accusingly. "Scary man!"

Yes, indeed. Byleth could not fault them. But he is surprised when a herd of tiny little children run up to his legs. "Scary man!" They declare. "Teach us swordsmanship!"

One of the mercenaries cackle. "I guess they remember you, Byleth."

That makes one of them. Byleth hardly remembers anyone from the village. He never returned, except to cut down the nameless villagers controlled by that man, Solon. 

"Do you know these children, professor?" Mercedes asks.

Byleth shakes his head. "Not at all."

One of the children actually tears up. Byleth feels distinctly guilty. 

A mercenary clears his throat. "Well, Remire was our base for awhile. Most of our jobs were in the area, so we rented a house out and stayed here for a month or so, moving back and forth between jobs and returning here to rest."

"Man, your memory is terrible, Byleth!" Another calls.

Byleth sighs. He could not deny that fact. He's wondering how to shake these small children away so he can walk when a woman ducks out of her store. 

"Mister Eisner?" She asks. Byleth searches his memory for a whole lot of nothing. The woman looks to be about the age of his mercenaries, and she's dusting off flour on her apron. "Welcome back! And good timing, too. My daughter is in need of a-"

"MAW!" A woman bursts through the door, brown hair swept into a bun. Her face is dotted with freckles. "Please ignore 'er, mister Byleth. Welcome back! We kept your house safe for y'all."

Byleth tries to think of this person's name and draws yet another blank. He wonders if there's a magic spell that restores and improves memory. "Thank you, miss." Byleth says carefully.

"Aw," she says, sweeping a strand of hair behind her ears. "Yer speaking to me all nice and proper now? No need. Call me Irene, like y'all did before! And no thanks 'r needed. Jus' paying back all the times you kept our 'lil village safe from wolves an' bandits!"

Irene. So that was her name. Byleth nods. He would not forget this time. But he absolutely still does not remember anything about protecting this village. He did a terrible job of it in the past, either way.

Byleth wonders if she died in Remire village in the past. 

"Who are these people?" Irene's mother asks, gesturing to the crowd of people. Seteth clears his throat to speak, but Byleth would rather not deal with whatever he was about to say. 

"My students," Byleth says. 

"My goodness," Irene says. "Even the hooded ones in the middle? I ain't accusin' you or nothin'. Lots of shady people have been around these parts lately."

Byleth purses his lips. Shady people? 

It could not be.

Byleth distinctly remembers killing that man, at least. 

"They're wearing hoods because they have very pretty faces," Byleth says softly. "We must be wary of any dangers, like slave traders."

"One is said to even said look like the princess!" A mercenary yells, and Byleth wonders if that was laying it on too thick.

Irene laughs. "Very true, mister Byleth. Y'all remember the way to yer house?" Byleth nods. "I won't stop y'all, then. I'll come over with some food later. I bet y'all haven't had banana bread as good as my ma's! Come now, you lil brats. Let go of mister Byleth."

Byleth is freed from the children's reluctant grasp. He sighs ever so slightly, and they continue onwards. Byleth ignores the laughs of the mercenaries.

"Scary man," they laugh. 

Byleth rolls his eyes.

Two of the mercenaries run up to Byleth and throw arms around his shoulders. "Hey, Byleth? Can we play a lil tonight? We haven't been drinking with you in so long!"

"No," Byleth says.

One of them sighs and leans on his shoulder with a pout. "Come on, Byleth. Pleeeease."

"You can," Byleth says finally, after a moment. The mercenaries cheer. "But if I find that you have done anything to mess around I shall cut that off."

Byleth can practically feel most of the mercenaries still. Some of the students, too. He can hear Sylvain suck in a shaky breath.

"'That?'" Annette asks. 

"I-isn't that too harsh?" A mercenary asks. 

Byleth looks straight ahead. "Not as harsh as what my father would do if he realized you thought of drinking and messing around on a job," he deadpans.

"So harsh."

"You'll grow up meaner than the captain."

"But that's what we love about you!"

"Speaking of love," a mercenary trails off. "What about that girl?"

"What girl?" Byleth asks, more focused on the small puffs of cold air leaving his lips. The snow is coming down harder. They're lucky they got to the village in this short amount of time. Any longer and it would be difficult to move around. He can only hope for the snow to let up overnight.

"Irene. Is she your type?"

Byleth blinks. "My type?"

"Yeah!" The mercenaries look very excited. "Come to think of it, what is your type? What do you look for in a partner!"

"I would love to know as well!" Sylvain says, teasingly. Dimitri punches his arm and Sylvain cries out in pain. 

Blue eyes flicker in his memory. "Someone strong," Byleth says.

"Ooh," the mercenaries echo. 

Although Sylvain has been hit, he doesn't seem to give up. "We've got someone strong right here!" He declares, gesturing at Dimitri. Felix is rolling his eyes so hard Byleth wonders if he can see in the back of his head.

"Well, I can't blame that Irene girl," a mercenary says. "Everyone wants to be a boss' partner."

"What does that mean?" Ashe asks.

Sylvain laughs good naturedly. "Come on, Ashe. A handsome, strong young man who is mysterious, quiet and saves people makes all the ladies swoon. Imagine, you're being saved by that sort of man, flowers bloom around you, you fall in love at first sight, he opens up to you and you alone, and protects you. It's the plot of every basic romance novel."

"I suppose you're right!" Ashe declares. "The professor really does seem like that type, doesn't he! All cool and mysterious and strong. Right, your Highness?"

Dimitri sputters and turns pink. The cold must be getting to him. But wasn't he from Faerghus? At least they had already reached the house. They stop in front of it, Byleth raising a hand to stop the students from walking in.

"It's freezing!" Lysithea complains. "Why can't we just walk in?! It's your house!" Byleth only shakes his head.

It looks exactly the same as they left it. Still...

"Go," Byleth says. The students look confused as a handful of mercenaries step out from behind Byleth and walk inside. Some of the students make to move, but Byleth shakes his head. "Please wait a moment."

A few minutes pass before the mercenaries walk back out. "It's clean, but cold. Seems that Irene lady wasn't lying. No rats, no bugs. The kitchen is empty. No signs of life outside the remains of cleaning cloths."

Byleth nods. "Okay. We can go inside now. There are rooms, and bunk beds, but some people will have to sleep on the floor or on a chair."

"How are we going to decide who gets what?" Ignatz asks, a little timidly.

Tilting his head to the side, Byleth thinks to himself. "First come first serve," he says carefully, and the students run past him, practically running him over.

Linhardt flickers out of existence and reappears on the top floor, his face visible through the window. Caspar's face goes red. "Linhardt!!! Teleporting is so unfair!"

Byleth sighs. He's glad that he brought a blanket. He is definitely sleeping on the floor.

A wave of nausea rushes past him. "-first serve," he says carefully, once again, and once again, the students nearly run him over in their haste. Again, Linhardt flickers out of existence and reappears on the top floor, his face visible through the window. Caspar's face goes red. Again. "Linhardt!!! Teleporting is so unfair!"

He feels like throwing up. He leans against the house for support, taking shallow breaths. 

Byleth did not use a Divine Pulse. 

_Sothis?_

No answer. 

_Sothis, can you hear me? What happened?_

.

Sothis stares at Jeralt, fingers tapping at her chin. "You're just dodging!" Sothis calls, looking disappointed. "I wanna see blood! I wanna see you hurt this man!"

She can hear Jeralt chuckle.

Jeralt weaves in and out of the Death Knight's attacks, scythe slashing through the air itself. It's almost as if the man is dancing, expertly avoiding each and every single one of his attacks.

Duck, weave. Jump back, duck. Weave, step back to the right, duck. 

Sothis watches all of this with a careful eye. The Death Knight sure was strong, but his attacks seemed bored, almost lazy. Like he was attacking for the sake of attacking rather than actually having a strategy. Like he wasn't even seeing Jeralt as an opponent.

Something about it made her angry. 

Why did he go all out on Byleth and no one else? Well, it didn't matter.

Jeralt ducks under another slice, and when he stands back up he uses the force of his sudden movements to kick up at the Death Knight's scythe. It flies into the air, and Sothis catches it with one hand.

"Are you done?" Sothis asks.

"Nah," Jeralt responds, and ducks under a punch that the Death Knight throws. The movements seem almost slow. Sothis just wants this fight to be interesting.

The Death Knight looks rather hilarious off of his horse, or at least, that is what Sothis thinks. He looks out of place. 

"Come on, Jeralt!" Sothis yells, frustrated. "Just punch him already!"

"I'm just sizing him up," Jeralt says, even as he closes in and slams a fist into the Death Knight's face. Sothis winces. It must be hell on a mortal's hand, to punch a solid piece of armor. To her surprise, she watches as the mask dents under his hands, even as his knuckles split. 

An unpleasant crunch fills the air, and even Sothis winces at the noise.

The Death Knight falls to the ground, and Jeralt moves to look down on him. "Are you even trying?!" Jeralt demands. "Get up. If you're this weak, then how did you even kidnap my son?!"

Sothis hops off her chair. "Before you tear into him, can you please let me heal your knuckles? Byleth is going to kill me if he finds out."

Jeralt says nothing, but gives Sothis his hand. She whistles slowly at the carnage, a mess of pulpy flesh and blood. "How hard did you hit him? You didn't even flinch."

"He laid his hands on my son," Jeralt hisses.

Sothis looks up at Jeralt. "I guess so," she says, and traces over the wound. It disappears under her light touch.

As soon as she's done, he pulls his hand away and he raises a fist to punch him again. "Don't!" Sothis yells, eyes wide. 

"You're the one that wanted to see blood," Jeralt says, almost calm. 

Sothis places a hand over her eyes. "Yeah, but I think that's enough. Question him first, and then punch him again if you want to! I don't care."

"...Are you done?" The Death Knight asks, tenor quiet. "Then will you answer me now?"

Sothis rolls her eyes. "You know, I think your voice is just less annoying outside of that dumb helmet," she says, and snaps her fingers. It disappears from his face and dissolves into the air. "Okay. Now you can talk."

"I said, are you done?" The Death Knight asks, voice flat. "If you're satisfied, then tell me where that girl is." Blood drips down Jeritza's nose, and the nose in question is bent at an unnatural angle.

Sighing, Sothis crouches next to the man and heals his nose with her free hand, setting it back to normal. "Don't get the wrong idea. I'm only healing your nose because if it were any more broken your voice would be all the more unpalatable."

Jeritza does not even look at her. 

"Where is she?"

"Where is who?" Jeralt asks. His hands are still clenching at his sides. Sothis would not blame him if he were to throw another punch. 

"I thought that that man would keep an eye on her. Where is she." 

Sothis claps her hands together in understanding. "Ah, your big sister, Mercedes!"

Finally, the man looks at her. "Where is she."

Sothis rolls her eyes. "You are aware that there are many, many more words that you are capable of using that mean the exact same thing, right? You don't need to repeat yourself."

Jeritza blinks, long and slow. "Where is she?"

Standing, Sothis cracks the knuckles of her free hand. "I want to give this man a punch, too."

"Where is she?" Jeritza repeats, for what seemed like the millionth time. 

"You want to know?" Sothis asks. Jeritza nods, eyes totally focused. "Okay! I. Won't. Tell. You!"

She is absolutely expecting the lunge, but she doesn't have to dodge. Jeralt whisks her back and behind him to take the hit. Absolutely not. 

A rush of energy falls over her, flashes of violet and indigo dancing in her eyes.

"Where is she?" Jeritza repeats, for the millionth and one time. 

"You want to know?" Sothis asks, once again. Jeritza nods, eyes totally focused. "Okay! I. Won't. Tell. You!"

She snaps her fingers and he floats in the air, struggling against an invisible hold, kicking and punching, fists clenched. "You're annoying. No matter where she is, Byleth shall protect her!"

"TELL ME WHERE SHE IS!" 

Sothis makes a face. "Yelling will absolutely not make me listen." She moves her finger up and down, and his body floats in turn with her finger, up and down, and up and down. "Please do not yell or attack."

"Should we take him in?" Jeralt asks, folding his arms across his chest.

Sothis shakes her head. "If Seiros knew who he was, she would display his head for all to see."

"Is that a bad thing?" Jeralt scoffs. 

"Mercedes and Byleth would be distraught," Sothis replies lazily.

"Byleth too?" Jeralt demands. "Last thing I heard, he thought this boy was real annoying."

Sothis shrugs, admiring her work. He's gone still now, but his fists are clenched, and so is his jaw. "He's young," Sothis says, distantly. It's more an observation than an actual comment about him. She can really see the resemblance between this child and his older sister.

Jeralt sighs, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "We can't just set him free."

"I have an idea," Sothis says, snapping her fingers.

.

Byleth sighs into a mug. Irene had brought them various loaves of bread, jam rolls and little buns filled with meat, or curry, or veggies, braided donuts, some sort of squares with powdered sugar, and other treats. She had also brought them dinner, a large pot of cream stew that had disappeared in seconds, alongside some chocolate for dessert. Byleth had hidden away his portion for this very moment.

Milk, in a pot. Sugar, cinnamon, chocolate. They couldn't find vanilla, but it was alright. The drink was still delicious. 

He had watched the students fight over the rooms with a clinical sort of horror, as they yelled and made bets and yelled some more. Byleth felt distant from it, however. Even when Sothis had reassured Byleth that both herself and his father were okay, he couldn't shake the sense of unease. 

She did not say what they had come across. More interestingly enough, Byleth had felt time move, and did not even do it himself. He feels grateful that no one else was able to feel it, for Byleth had to close his eyes and sink against the wall in order to ward off the coming nausea.

But that was all over now. Hopefully. Byleth wonders if Sothis feels just as nauseous whenever he turns back the clock.

Stirring his drink and careful not to disturb anyone asleep, he steps outside and gathers a few sticks and piles up before a log, setting them ablaze with a single spell. Byleth collapses on that log, sighing.

He is unable to sleep.

Even though Byleth feels as though he does nothing but sleep these days, he is totally unable to calm his restlessness. He knows Sothis is there, in the back of his mind. He knows that she would never allow his father to be harmed.

And he knows that his students are peacefully sleeping, unaware of the world around them. He knows that he killed Solon and Monica. 

Still, he keeps a wary eye on the village. It's too late for anyone to be awake. It's practically morning.

The snow had settled into something lighter, light enough that Byleth was able to see the stars through the clouds. It had stopped for a few hours during the night, so Byleth guesses that they're going to have a relatively uninterrupted journey.

The Agarthans. 

Who were they, and why did Sothis need to learn their location? 

Well, it didn't matter.

If Sothis really wished it so, then Byleth would deliver her their heads himself.

"Professor?" 

Byleth does not turn around. He knows who it is, anyway. "Yes. Hello, princess."

Edelgard settles on the log next to him, blanket wrapped around her shoulders. "Did you have a nightmare, too?" Edelgard asks, and then bites down on her lip. Byleth already caught it, though. 'Too.'

Honestly, Byleth was too on edge to care. "No. I cannot sleep."

"I see," she says. "What are you drinking, professor?"

Byleth takes another sip before responding. "It is a drink made with chocolate, princess. Want some?"

"No, thank you," she says, and turns her head up to the sky. "The stars are beautiful tonight. I can understand your wish to star gaze."

Byleth feels rather than sees Edelgard's shoudlers relax. He wonders why. Honestly, he's never been more tense in his life. He doesn't want to even be near her. Besides, they hardly know each other, so Byleth cannot understand why she could even afford to be relaxed in his presence. 

And it was late. She should be trying to go back to bed, anyway. He knows that Hubert almost threw down the gauntlet to win a bed for Edelgard.

"Princess-"

"I wish you would call me Edelgard," she cuts in, voice very, very small. 

Byleth does not know what to say, so he says nothing.

"You only started to call me princess recently," she continues, now staring into the weak fire, battered by the falling snow. "You don't trust me."

Byleth's hands clench against his mug. "Can you blame me."

Edelgard takes a deep breath. "I heard the rumors. The Flame Emperor, aligned with the Empire. But just know that I do not approve of his actions."

Now, Byleth is not very good at emotions, nor is he good at conversation, but he is able to read between the lines. His eyes narrow at her.

"That's fine," Byleth says. "And if you were to confess that you were the Flame Emperor, I would drop your head into the flames right now." 

Honestly, Byleth wants to do so right now. 

For some inexplicable reason, Edelgard chuckles, hand covering her mouth. "I am not the Flame Emperor, but I wouldn't let you do so easily."

Byleth shrugs his shoulders. His drink is getting cold. 

"Are you particularly religious, professor?" Edelgard asks out of the blue. "Is that why the Archbishop favors you, alongside the so called goddess? Is that why you work for them?"

"She is the goddess," Byleth replies, a little offended. "And I work for the Archbishop because she offered me a job."

"I can offer you one," Edelgard says pointedly. "A much better job." Byleth is not in the mood for mind games.

"I help Sothis because she is my dear friend, and I love her," Byleth continues.

"Because she's the goddess?" Edelgard asks, voice hard.

Finally, Byleth looks at her, really looks at her properly. "Not at all. I would do the same for anyone else that I cared for. That is all."

Edelgard is the first to look away. "Then I am a bit jealous."

Of what, Byleth is afraid to ask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT TIME ON GODSPEED Z: byleth meets a turtle! shit happens in mist! sothis meets someone very important wink wink! look forward to it! 
> 
> ugh this chapter feels very meh to me. but if u enjoyed it even the littlest bit, ill be very happy! thank u. I WANTED THE FIGHT TO BE COOLER BUT UGH. well, either way jeralt gon throw down with someone else soon
> 
> im tryna make everyone hug by the end of this fic shshshshshs
> 
> thank you guys so much for reading ♡
> 
> byleth/dimitri B rank  
byleth/dedue B rank  
byleth/felix B rank  
byleth/annette B rank  
byleth/ingrid C+ rank  
byleth/sylvain B rank  
byleth/mercedes B rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt B rank  
byleth/ferdinand B rank  
byleth/lysithea B rank  
byleth/cyril C+ rank  
byleth/flayn B rank  
byleth/caspar B rank  
byleth/dorothea C+ rank
> 
> byleth/jeritza C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/sothis A rank  
byleth/claude C+ rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea C+ rank


	34. eve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone! happy easter to those who celebrate, and to those who dont, i still hope you have some wonderful food today! 
> 
> y'all.... my island in animal crossing is almost so sexy. but only Almost. it's not done yet, but im working hard!
> 
> so i cut about 2000 words of this chapter out because the place i was planning on leaving it on was really chunky and wouldn't make sense until other stuff was revealed but you know what it's all okay i had fun writing this anyway!

Edelgard falls asleep against Byleth's shoulder and Byleth really wants to push her off. He wants to hop into the bath and scrub away at where her touch made contact, until his skin was pink and raw.

Byleth is not sure that he's ever thought anything more rude in his life. It is very out of character of him. He doesn't understand. It might be Sothis, it may be just himself, it also could have been a mix of them both. He feels bad for even thinking about this.

He does not realize any of those thoughts. Instead, he tucks Edelgard into her blanket and lifts her, one hand under her knees and the other around her back, and lifts her into the house.

The stairs creak under his steps, but Byleth does his best to be a silent as possible. If he remembers correctly, Hubert was able to get her a bed at the end of the hall.

Their safe house was not luxurious in the slightest, but it did have many rooms to accommodate the mercenaries. The long stretch of thin hallway, illuminated by a sole window at the end of the hall was rather dark and quiet, only made visible by the light of the moon. 

Byleth steps over Leonie, who was curled up under a blanket in the hall. It only covered her legs. He frowns, then shifts Edelgard's weight into one hand, then pulls Leonie's blanket up to cover her shoulders. At her side lay Raphael, snoring loudly as he slept against a wall. Byleth moves the blanket to cover a part of the boy, too. 

Edelgard was surprisingly light. It was easy to pass her weight from one hand to another. He adjusts so that she leans onto his chest, one arm carefully switching his arm under her knees.

One by one, he checks into a few of the rooms.

Claude is sprawled out like a starfish on a bottom bunk while Hilda, on the other side of the room, is half off of her bed and half on the floor. Byleth closes the door.

In the other room, Mercedes and Annette shared the bottom bunk, while Ingrid and Lysithea shared the top. Byleth is surprised that Ingrid convinced her to share. Lysithea was likely disgruntled by the whole affair, and yet there they were, sharing a quiet space. In the middle of the room lay Sylvain, bundled up under several pillows and blankets. Byleth notes the tight grip on his spear, despite the fact that he was quite asleep. On the other side were Ashe, Linhardt, and Caspar, all shoved into a bed on the bottom bunk. Byleth was surprised that they all fit. On the top bunk were Dedue and Dimitri, Dedue a protective shield on the outside of the bed, while Dimitri was facing the wall.

Byleth peers around the door and sees Cyril and Flayn sharing a blanket, leaning against the wall. He vaguely remembers Seteth insisting that he and Flayn slept in the same bed, much to her dismay. On the couch near the door, Ferdinand and Dorothea were splayed, limbs everywhere. The quileted blanket that was presumably covering them before had fallen to the ground. Byleth quietly leans down and places the blanket on top of them.

Byleth does a quick headcount.

Where was Felix?

He narrows his eyes, and then spots a mess of blue hair just barely peeking out from underneath the mountain of blankets covering Sylvain's body. Byleth huffs quietly.

To be honest, he's surprised that they all insisted on sharing a room. They were the first ones up the stairs, and yet they all decided room together in spite of the other spaces. Byleth remembers Caspar whining for Linhardt to share his bed with both himself and Ashe. He could have taken a different bed.

"Mm... Who's there?" 

Byleth blinks himself out of his thoughts to see Sylvain's eyes on him, shockingly bright and focused for someone who had just woken up. "Go back to bed," Byleth whispers.

Sylvain's eyes trail lazily from Byleth's face to the girl he was carrying in his arms. "Everything alright?"

Byleth nods. "You must take advantage of the hours you have left to rest." 

"You too," Sylvain says, even though his voice slurs now. "Don't think I didn't notice that you didn't choose a bed, professor."

"It's fine," Byleth whispers.

Sylvain loosens his grip on his weapon and pushes it aside. He then pats the spot next to him. "C'mere, professor."

Byleth shakes his head, then jerks his chin to Edelgard. Sylvain sighs. "Alright. But when you drop sleeping beauty off, come back here. There's plenty of blanket to go around."

He nods, and then begins to close the door when Sylvain speaks up again. "I'm serious, professor. You didn't sleep at all, did you?"

"...Okay," Byleth replies. He's not in the mood to disagree, nor does he want to lie to his students. "I'll be back soon then."

Sylvain, finally satisfied, closes his eyes and sighs.

Byleth continues his trek down the hall and opens the door to the farthest room. Two bunk beds, and yet the room only held Edelgard and Hubert.

The latter was sitting on a bottom bunk, eyes trained on Byleth. 

"Ah, so she was with you," Hubert says, in lieu of a greeting. 

Byleth nods, crossing the room to gently place Edelgard on the unoccupied bunk bed. First, he moves the blankets, and then scoops her under them to tuck her in. She doesn't make a sound. Byleth would think that she was awake if it weren't for her slow, steady heart beat.

Hubert's gaze is piercing. Unfortunately for him, Byleth has become immune to all stares and condescending expressions.

Without turning around, Byleth narrows his eyes. "You do not have to look at me like that. She was the one who approached me, after all."

"Get some rest, professor," Hubert says. His tone is nearly as flat as Byleth's own.

Softly, Byleth closes the door when he leaves, and hears a click. 

He returns back to the room holding the Blue Lions, where Sylvain is watching the door with alert eyes. 

"Good," Sylvain says, and lifts the blanket. Byleth walks over and sits under the blanket. Sylvain makes a small sound. "Actually, professor? Can you move up a bit?" 

Byleth obediently scoots forward, and then Sylvain puts a pillow where his back used to be. "Okay, you can lean back now," Sylvain says, and so Byleth obeys.

With half-lidded eyes, Byleth watches Sylvain visibly struggle to unclench his fists, so Byleth slips his hand into Sylvain's without a word. Ever so slowly, the taut line of Sylvain's back loosens, and he leans his head onto Byleth's shoulder.

Closing his eyes, Byleth focuses on the soft breathing of his students to lull him asleep.

.

As soon as the tiniest sliver of bronze sunlight spills into the room through the cracks of a curtain, Byleth's eyes snap open. 

It's still very early. 

Byleth fights a yawn as he slowly adjusts Sylvain so his head no longer lies upon his shoulder, but on the very pillow Sylvain had gifted him.

He does another quick headcount, and then slips out of the room and out of the house.

The lazy fire had died in the night, but Byleth eyes the cup he left near his seat. He'll pick it up later. For now, he must head to the bakery.

They had received loads of provisions last night, Byleth having to hide them away lest the hungry teenagers- or worse- _Raphael or Ingrid-_ ate them all. Byleth can practically still taste the banana bread on his tongue. It was indeed delicious. However, Byleth needed to rely on them for breakfast once again, lest they make a dent in their rations. 

Somehow feeding the students was more time and food consuming than feeding the mercenaries. Byleth supposes that they were still growing.

Byleth steps onto a dirt path and allows it to take him to the bakery.

_Sothis. Are you awake?_

_ **Mmprgh.** _

_Good morning. Tell my father that too._

_ **Mph. 'Kay.** _

_Thank you._

It's early, but the day has just begun for the people of Remire. Byleth watches a small child chase around a chicken into their coop and a few people wielding wooden baskets filled with laundry. People selling food are setting up shop, setting down trays and dusting off signs. It's a sight that Byleth had believed he would never see again.

Turning a corner, he locates the bakery and pushes the door open, a small ball announcing his arrival.

Irene's mother looks up from a table, counting small coins. "Good morning, mister Byleth. Come for breakfast? We just took some sweet rolls out of the oven."

Byleth can definitely smell them, warm and homey. He reaches into his cloak and pulls out a few gold coins. "Is this enough?"

The woman merely gawks at the coins as Byleth undoes his cloak in order to use it to carry all of the rolls as a makeshift sack. But first, he shoves one in his mouth and holds it there.

He steps out of the store, rolls in tow. A few stalls over he spots hair ties of all sorts of colours and designs, so Byleth picks up a simple black tie and fastens it around his wrist for now.

The morning is still young. Byleth returns to the house to see the mercenaries already awake, stretching and sparring. They wave at Byleth when he is in sight, beaming ear to ear.

Byleth allows them to be the first to pick out which rolls they want, and then falls into training, waiting for the loud singing of swords to wake up his students. 

He never noticed how the wispy curls of his hair tickled his face until he pulled it back into a small little ponytail.

.

One by one, the students spill down the stairs. Byleth pays them no mind. He's too focused on his footwork, the extension of his arm and the muscle in his shoulders. Blade clashing against blade is like bird song to Byleth, but a few moments catch his eye, like the strong scent from Lorenz's tea, or Dedue leaving the house with Linhardt's limp body draped over his shoulder.

Byleth wonders if he should intervene. "Break," he calls, and the mercenaries drop to the floor, panting. "Good morning. Dedue, why are you carrying Linhardt?" Byleth asks, walking over to him.

Dedue nods at Byleth, and very carefully, slides Linhardt onto the dirt as softly as he can. The boy doesn't even seem to notice, and he merely slumps over where he is placed. "Morning. He woke up very briefly and declared that he would not partake in breakfast unless he was dragged there."

"I see," Byleth says.

"Did you eat?" Dedue asks.

"Yes," Byleth tells him, nodding toward the cloak spread out on the grass. "Go and take a roll or two before they are all stolen."

Dedue nods and walks away, as Dimitri and Claude emerge from the house. Claude has one hand around Dimitri's shoulders and his grin is so sharp you could be sliced upon that curve. The unnamed wyvern lies draped over Claude shoulders. 

Byleth realizes that he wants nothing to do with whatever they are talking about, and turns away.

.

"Have you packed everything?" Byleth asks, when the students have all finished eating and are gathered outside of the house. "It will be a long journey. We will have to sleep outside. I realize that some of us did not have proper sleeping gear to bring, so we will have to share."

"Boys and girls must be separate," Seteth glares at the students. "Separate." 

"He said that already," Sylvain mutters. Felix and Ingrid elbow him. 

Byleth does a quick count of his students and nods. "It may be mind numbing to walk endlessly, but we may encounter other situations on the road. We cannot stop endlessly for someone that is in need to relieve themselves."

When none of the students have anything to say, Byleth nods. "Shall we go, then?"

They start off on their journey as Ashe pulls a thick book from his bag, the leather cover decorated in gold trim and lettering. "We can start book club then!" Ashe says cheerily, raising the book up to his face. 

The first day of travels is relatively clear of trouble, snow crunching under their feet. The dark dirt road they travel only see a few other travelers besides them, a family leading their donkey to a town and a group of young men that laugh and wave at them, promising good deals on mercenary work for a bit of coin. They take one long look at Byleth and freeze.

"Ashen Demon," one of them whispers, and they make mysterious faces. Byleth is very confused. If they were going to attack, they should have done so in the first place.

Seteth steps in front of Byleth, one arm raised. "Have you any business with this man?"

Byleth stares at Seteth with blank eyes. He did not need for this man to protect him at all. 

The young men whisper among themselves for a moment, and then whirl on Byleth, eyes wide. "Is it true that you took down twenty men at once, and all by yourself?!"

One of them slaps the back of their head. "Idiot, it was thirty men! Thirty men!" They too, look at Byleth with wide, glowing eyes. "So how did you do it?"

"With my sword," Byleth says, monotone. Despite his lack of an enthusiastic response, the men all look wildly excited. He doesn't understand why these men are so pleased. Byleth was aware that his father had admirers, but the thought that he had something similar was odd.

"Can you carve your initials into my pauldron?" Byleth blinks at the sudden request.

"I must be on my way," Byleth says softly. "Although... I... I do appreciate it."

The men grin cheekily. "Ah, I see. You're on a mission, right? Can't keep someone like you from heading out. It was a pleasure to meet you, though!"

Waving goodbye, the men press concoctions into Byleth's hands and do not stop waving until they are out of sight.

"I guess you have adoring fans," Ingrid comments. 

"I don't think so," Byleth says, as he places the concoctions into his bag. "Shall we continue?"

"It looks like your Highness has more rivals," Claude calls, inexplicably. 

A loud thud, as if someone has just punched another person's shoulder. Byleth does not want to turn around. 

Ashe coughs, and continues where he left off in his novel. His voice carries their feet lightly until they find a place to settle down for the night.

On the second day of their travels, snow comes down like sheets of ice and the students huddle together for warmth. Byleth sends the mercenaries ahead to scout for buildings, and they find a farm house and ask for shelter.

In return, Byleth and the mercenaries clear off the wild animals stealing their crops. The Blue Lions insist on coming, but Byleth adamantly refuses and they back down. Byleth cuts down a wolf and buries them shallow. 

The elderly couple allows them to stay in their barn and cooks them potato stew. 

Byleth asks Sothis if she can clear the skies and she laughs.

She tells him that she does not have enough power for that yet. 

Byleth spends the night staring at the door of the barn listening to the snow fall as the students sleep in a circle near a fire. Surprisingly, Seteth stays up too, and takes out a novel to read. Byleth busies himself with carving out a small bear in a decently sized block of wood and gives it to Annette when the sun rises. 

He is made to promise to make the other Lions trinkets of the same sort.

The third day of travels, Byleth pushes the students a little harder so they can make up for lost time. The dirt road is slowly fading into wilderness.

Some of the students trip over brambles and curse at the amount of trees and other flora. They lock eyes with a small deer.

Byleth feels lighter.

They stop in another clearing.

"Professor, may I sleep with you tonight?" Dimitri asks.

Sylvain wolf whistles at him, and Dimitri flushes suddenly, as if he did not understand the implications of his words prior. Byleth watches, solemnly, as the Blue Lions tackle Sylvain and shove their gloved hands over his mouth.

"You don't need to ask, Dimitri," Byleth says, and stares at Claude with narrowed eyes when it seems like the boy is about to follow in Sylvain's footsteps. "But why?"

Dimitri does not meet his eyes as he spreads out a thick blanket next to Byleth's quilt. "I noticed that you stayed up the other night."

"You were awake." It is not a question.

The prince shrugs one shoulder, smoothing out the ripples in the blanket. "Yes and no, professor. My sleeping habits are sporadic, to say the least. I woke up every other hour and still saw you staring at the door."

"I will not stay up tonight," Byleth says. "The mercenaries shall look out for us this night. Sometimes, we take shifts."

"Allow me-"

Byleth shakes his head and watches as Dimitri grits his teeth. "Well then, professor. I will just have to keep an eye out for you to make sure you get proper rest."

The prince looks very determined. Byleth has the sudden urge to pull at his cheeks. "Do as you please," Byleth says. 

"Good night, professor," Dimitri declares, a satisfied pull at his lips. "I do hope you sleep properly tonight."

On the fourth day of travels, they encounter a group of brigands who leer at the women in their group, and refuse to let them cross a bridge unless they pay a hefty sum of gold.

Seteth steps forward, likely wanting to settle this matter peacefully. Before he can do so, however, both Byleth and the mercenaries disarm the men and push them over the bridge. The fall is short, and the river beneath them is deep, so they shall live. The rush of water was swift, but not fatal.

Byleth listens to them scream for a moment of bliss. He cannot forgive them for laying such wanting eyes upon his students. 

"That was reckless," Seteth scolds. "And a use of unnecessary force."

Byleth ignores him. They have talked about matters like this in the future, like who was to be spared in battles and such. Normally, they agree.

Very rarely do they not. So Byleth is aware that Seteth is not meaning to scold him, so he shrugs. 

"If we did not take care of them, who would?" Byleth asks, flat.

Seteth opens his mouth, but Byleth is not done. "Farm hands? Children playing by the banks of the river? They won't be back anytime soon."

Byleth turns and walks away.

On the fifth day, they reach a more humble, tiny village in comparison to Remire village. Byleth takes one look at their faces and shakes his head at the mercenaries. The villagers look at them with sunken eyes.

They pass through the village without settling down there. 

"Their stares were creepy, professor," Mercedes confesses, as soon as they're out of sight. That day, they settle in an abandoned house, but not before they check for creatures.

The next days pass in a relatively peaceful manner.

It's almost a relief when they stumble onto the location, Lake Teutates, as promised in the story.

.

"You're not surprised," Sothis comments, as they lock a thick wooden door behind them. 

Jeralt shrugs at her, rolling his neck and relishing in the cracks it makes. "Nah, not really. I've been here a long time, remember? I was also Captain of the guards."

Sothis relinquishes the point with a nod. 

The clergy and the staff of the church part ways for them, wide eyes following their every move. At least they did not see them deposit Jeritza into a cell, alongside a week's worth of food. Sothis swears that she can see Hanneman peek out at her from around a pillar.

"That won't hold that boy," Jeralt comments. 

"I never said it would," Sothis says, examining her nails. "But it's a solution for now. If he escapes and tries to kill everyone here, I can handle it."

"How reassuring," Jeralt informs her, and places a large hand on her head to ruffle her hair. She squeals indignantly in protest.

"How rude!" Sothis scolds, weakly attempting to bat his hand away. "I am not your son!"

"Your Holiness," a voice greets. Sothis does not turn around. "Progenitor God."

"That's not my name," Sothis says, eyes ahead. 

"I wouldn't dare," Gilbert says, one hand over his heart as he kneels on one knee. His eyes do not raise to her face. 

Sothis watches the man kneel in front of her. Being treated like this-

"The Archbishop requests your presence," Gilbert says, slowly. People are watching them. Sothis does not even spare them a glance.

"Am I a dog to be summoned as pleased?" Sothis says, with a voice like ice. Were it any other person saying it, the words would be meant as a joke. Her voice booms, and shakes in the air around them. 

Sothis is not actually that displeased, and yet...

The goddess watches as Gilbert shudders. So do the fanfare. A violent tremble wracks their bodies, knees shaking. 

"I am in a bad mood," Sothis says simply. "I don't understand why she cannot fetch me herself. Are you going to lead me there too?" The goddess continues, voice dripping in disdain and sarcasm. 

Finally, Sothis sighs, and the shaking stills. "Very well," she says, and flicks her hair over one shoulder. "I did not mean to scare any of you."

Gilbert's head dips. "Truly benevolent."

Sothis rolls her eyes. "Come with me, Jeralt."

He follows wordlessly.

.

When Sothis reaches the audience hall, Seiros is there, hands folded together. Her smile is serene.

The boy with violet hair is there too, and when they lock eyes the corner of his lip pulls. Sothis wonders what he is wearing on his lips for them to shine so brightly.

"Sothis," Seiros greets. "This is Yuri, one of my trusted subordinates."

That boy- Yuri- walks up to Sothis, takes her hand, and presses a light kiss to her knuckles. "It's an honor."

The goddess only stares at him with unblinking eyes. "That is not your name," she says, with a voice like honey.

Yuri looks at her through long, long lashes. "Feel free to call me anything you want to, then."

Sothis scoffs, ripping her hand from his light grasp. "So, why are you introducing us?"

"You must know that people are targeting your life," Seiros says quietly. "They have heard the rumors. It doesn't matter whether or not they think that you are the goddess, they still want your head. Yuri is excellent for working in the shadows. To put it frankly, he'll shadow you."

Sothis bursts into melodious laughter, giggling behind a hand. "Have you forgotten who I am?" Sothis demands incredulously though shaky peals of laughter.

Seiros looks flustered, immediately hurrying to shake her head. From the expressions on both Jeralt and Yuri's face, such a look is normally unseen. "You're wrong! I just don't want you to dirty your hands."

Picking at her nails, Sothis raises a brow. "Seiros, I have had bloodied hands since before you with born into this world. I am not averse to killing. I shall not hesitate to do so in the future."

Seiros says nothing for a moment. Then she frowns. "Am I not allowed to care for you?"

Sothis rubs at her temples. "Oh, don't start with me, Seiros. Fine. Do as you please."

"Very good!" Seiros says cheerily, clapping her hands together. "We'll announce you properly to the public tomorrow, then."

"I did not agree to this."

With a smile that practically glows, Seiros walks over to Sothis and takes her hand. "Mother, won't it be best to gather all those fools that desire your head at once? By declaring you as goddess, those fools shall gather like lambs to the slaughter and climb atop our laps, and we can cut them down once and for all!"

Sothis stares at her daughter, tilting her head to one side. "Who raised you like this?" Sothis demands, after a moment.

"That would be you," Seiros replies. "Now come! We must pick out an outfit!"

The goddess is dragged unceremoniously out of the audience hall by the hand. The door slams shut behind them.

Silence.

Jeralt turns to Yuri, contemplating something. "I've never seen you before," Jeralt begins, examining the boy. He does not remember Byleth mentioning a person that looked like this, or a person with that name.

"You wouldn't have," Yuri replies casually. He tilts his head, and a strand of hair falls over his shoulder. "Mister Blade Breaker, is it? I've heard about you before."

"Only good things, I hope," Jeralt says. 

"Of course," Yuri agrees easily. "You and your son."

Jeralt narrows his eyes. "Excuse me?"

Yuri only grins at him. 

.

Sothis bites back a yell as Seiros stabs hairpins into her head, and bats her daughter's hands away. 

"If you poke me any harder with that I will certainly die," Sothis informs her.

She's sitting at Seiros' vanity, allowing her daughter to brush the tangles out of her hair. An array of intricate jewelry lines the flat surface, and the mirror has been polished until it shines.

"It won't stay put," Seiros counters. "Your hair used to be much more straight, mother. Loose and lovely, like yards of emerald silk."

"Things change," Sothis says, looking at herself in the mirror and seeing a stranger. "This isn't even my body."

"Forgive my inadequacies at being unable to recreate your body," Seiros says, and Sothis hates the way she sounds genuinely upset for it.

The goddess stares into the mirror and sees Byleth, but with bigger eyes and a rounder chin. This body is very pretty, but the eerie thing about it is that it looks far too much like Byleth. As if someone had remolded his features and pasted a mask of his face upon a body.

"Am I pretty?" Sothis asks.

"You are the most beautiful person in the world," Seiros says immediately.

Sothis scoffs. "Is that so."

"Yes, mother."

"I think that you are much better looking than I," Sothis counters. 

"Only because of you," Seiros denies, running a brush through Sothis' hair.

Sothis catches her daughter's eye in the mirror and scowls at her. "What is up with you? You've been acting so strange."

"Things change, mother."

Rolling her eyes, Sothis turns her attention to the golden hair pieces in decorating her face. "So cheeky."

"I also got that from you, mother," Seiros continues, grinning.

Sothis sighs at the familiar expression. "You used to be such a crybaby," Sothis laments, running a hand through neatly brushed hair.

"I grew up," Seiros says sweetly. She smiles at the goddess in the mirror. 

The goddess' thoughts turn to Byleth, a heart that was not his own beating away at his ribs. "You have indeed grown. How did you learn to attach a hand like that?"

"You, of course!" Seiros says brightly. 

"I do not recall," Sothis tells her honestly.

Seiros pouts, and while it was a familiar expression when she was younger, it looks odd on her now, as if she had forgotten entirely how to make such a face. "Mother, remember? The traveling bandits?"

"I have seen so many traveling bandits," Sothis says, examining her face in the mirror as Seiros pulls out a compact of something a shade of pale pink.

"That's not fair, mother!" Seiros exclaims, taking out a brush from a small drawer. She pops open the compact and swirls the bristles of the brush in the product, then lightly taps it against the side of the vanity. "Smile, please. It'll be easier for me to apply this."

Sothis smiles easily. "How do you remember all this, Seiros?"

"I remember everything about you," Seiros says calmly, evenly, as if it wasn't an entirely baffling statement.

The pale powder is applied to Sothis' face. Sothis examines herself in the mirror quietly. "I see," Sothis murmurs.

.

_Byleth wakes up._

_This isn't particularly unusual, or out of the ordinary, but today an unknown woman is hovering over his face._

_Through his blurry vision, he sees green hair and matching eyes, so he assumes that it is Sothis, and yet the exact colour is different. _

_"Wake up, Byleth!" The woman calls. _

_Byleth looks around and does his standard procedure of analyzing the area._

_He's in his bedroom. His bed is the same as usual, covered in piles of blankets. No Sothis. His desk is in disarray, as usual. The Sword of The Creator is not propped up against the wall._

_The woman is still hovering over him._

_Where was he? He couldn't be back at the academy. The last thing he remembers was fighting what seemed to be a giant turtle enshrouded in mist, and yet here he was, in a place that seemed to be his bedroom. A humungous turtle. The size of the creature was unbelievable. Byleth thought it looked rather cute until it summoned soldiers from the fog._

_The blankets covering his body are pulled haphazardly away, and Byleth frowns, sitting up in bed. The woman hovering over him dodges in one practiced movement._

_Byleth rubs a hand over his face and leaves it there for another moment for its warmth. "Who are you?" Byleth asks, feeling around under his pillow for Airgetlam. Nothing. Only a book lays under there, an unfamiliar title on an unfamiliar novel._

_"That's so mean," the woman teases, a soft expression on her face. "It really is too early for you, huh? Come on now. It's your first day as a professor! You don't want to be late!"_

_"What...?" Byleth asks, now more confused than ever. _

_She grins at him, and something about this person is so familiar Byleth forgets all about his plans to interrogate her. "Ah, that's right, you're a grown boy now! I'll leave you to get changed!"_

_The woman leans down and kisses Byleth on the cheek softly. "Love you. See you later!"_

_Practically skipping out the door, the woman closes it firmly behind her and Byleth is left to stare in her direction._

_First day?_

_Byleth swings his feet over the bed and then peers down._

Mist laps at his heels, a smoke-like fog billowing up at his feet. Now that Byleth thinks about it, fog is drifting through his windows, in the cracks of the walls, and-

_Byleth's head throbs painfully. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time on godspeed z: what the literal fuck is up with the mist? who is that mysterious woman who kissed byleth's cheek? + sothis having goddess duties and hating all of them! 
> 
> OKAY I SAID HE WOULD MEET A TURTLE BUT I DIDN'T SAY THEYD HAVE A CONVERSATION. THAT'S FOR NEXT CHAPTER DHSHGSD LOOK FORWARD TO IT!
> 
> bro im like seething with jealousy i wanna play p5r and ff7r so bad but i don't have a ps4 lol. literally why is cloud so pretty? scientists please explain
> 
> stay safe everyone!
> 
> thank you so much for reading ♡
> 
> byleth/dimitri B rank  
byleth/dedue B rank  
byleth/felix B rank  
byleth/annette B rank  
byleth/ingrid C+ rank  
byleth/sylvain B rank  
byleth/mercedes B rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt B rank  
byleth/ferdinand B rank  
byleth/lysithea B rank  
byleth/cyril C+ rank  
byleth/flayn B rank  
byleth/caspar B rank  
byleth/dorothea C+ rank
> 
> byleth/jeritza C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/sothis A rank  
byleth/claude C+ rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea C+ rank


	35. blue skies forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> henlo everyone! how are you guys? safe and sound hopefully!
> 
> look at these amazing works of art by the lovely yarane21 and the lovely Julius Kingsley! the first one is of a certain claude scene, and the other is a mashup of various scenes from godspeed! thank u guys so much ♡   
[beautiful claude comic](https://yarane21.tumblr.com/post/615323237542428672/it-took-some-time-a-new-tumblr-account-but)
> 
> [sick mashup](https://yatsukisakura.tumblr.com/post/615722744878891008/oh-god-the-first-one-takes-far-too-long-for-my)
> 
> y'all im telling you right now. everyone in ff7r should kiss. cloud and tifa, tifa and aerith, cloud and me dhdhdhhdhdhdh
> 
> im actually quite proud of this one! should that be a warning lol

_For once in his life, Byleth would love to not wake in some odd dream._

_He is sure that it is a dream, anyway. When he opens his dresser for a hair brush, there is nothing but void. It is not that there is a shroud of heady darkness within that drawer, but there is quite literally nothing. An absence of anything._

_Byleth turns and finds the hair brush on his bed, not a single strand stuck in the bristles. Whenever he brushes knots and tangles out of his hair, he practically rips them out. It is odd._

_Reaching up to pinch his cheek, he feels an odd sensation of pain before it fades entirely and blossoms like thin ink dropped into clear water all over his skin. Definitely a dream. Byleth wonders how he'll wake._

_He steps outside of his room, hands clenched at his sides. Byleth may not have the Sword of the Creator on his person, nor is he as physically strong as Dimitri, but he can throw a mean punch._

_Once again, proof that this is a dream unveils before his eyes. The fog is so thick, it hangs around the academy dorm area like a curtain. But that is not particularly unusual. _

_What is unusual is that there are two moons hanging in the sky. _

_They're massive. They are nearly close enough to cast a shadow. A thin line is cut across them, horizontally. _

_As if able to hear Byleth's thoughts, the line opens up slowly to reveal an eye. Just one of the eye moon things, anyway. It locks eyes with Byleth and shuts itself._

_"What the hell," Byleth murmurs, because he is an adult and he does not need to worry about his father hearing him. He doesn't know how long it has been since he has cursed aloud._

_Someone is watching. _

_Byleth is guessing it is that turtle. _

_They had fought that creature's soldiers relatively easily, but as soon as they had reached that massive creature, it had focused solely on Dimitri, Claude, and Edelgard... _

_Byleth vaguely recalls taking a hit for Dimitri, a swing of that turtle's tail, and being struck to the floor. His head seemed to bounce off of the stone tile he landed on, and then-_

_He was here. Staring up at huge eyes._

_A little off-put by the situation, Byleth pulls at his cheek once more and sighs when he still does not wake._

_For now, he'll look around his dream. Usually something important was revealed within them. _

_Byleth remembers Dima licking at his blade and closes his eyes. _

_._

_He thinks he may have been distracted. _

_Flayn runs up to him and takes his hand, laughing as she uses his body as a shield to hide from her father. Seteth chases her around Byleth, as Flayn hurriedly switches from side to side, laughing. _

_They go ahead and disappear into the mist._

_Claude and Hilda appear, and they both put an arm around Byleth's waist, giggling at him and making kissy faces._

_They too, walk forward and disappear._

_One by one, the rest of the Blue Lions appear, laughing and leaning into Byleth's side. Mercedes and Annette grin at him, making him swear that he'll help them bake later, Lysithea tapping her foot at their sides, raising her eyebrows at him. Ingrid and Dorothea ask him a few questions about class, laughing all the while. Cyril walks past, not sparing Byleth a glance, but he waves in his general direction. Ferdinand and Caspar are dragging Linhardt in the direction of the classrooms, waving at Byleth as they pass. Ashe grins at Byleth as he runs past with Dedue, briefly pausing to squeeze his hand. Sylvain is teasing Felix as they too, run past, but they both stop to quirk little smiles at Byleth._

_Dimitri appears last and smiles so brightly, so widely, that Byleth almost smiles along with him._

_It is hard to truly enjoy the infectious happiness of everyone that walks with him with two giant and terrifying eyes hovering over their heads. At the very least, Byleth stays aware that it is a dream. _

_The Blue Lions disappear into the thick fog._

_Byleth wonders what the point of this dream is._

_His father catches him walking towards the classroom and throws an arm around his shoulder, laughing. Byleth is distracted by his pleasant, warm smile. _

_"Did your mother wake you?" Jeralt asks, and Byleth does not comprehend the words until they've stewed for about thirty seconds in his head._

_"Did my mother what." _

_That person-_

_Jeralt chuckles, bringing his other hand up to ruffle Byleth's hair. Now that Byleth is looking closer, his father does not possess the same number of wrinkles or lines that emphasize his scowling face. He looks the same, and yet simultaneously younger, fresh with happiness._

_-was his mother?_

_"Your mother teared up a little today knowing her baby boy has grown up," Jeralt says, teasingly. "Why not go see her on your break? She'll be in the greenhouse. As usual, of course."_

_Byleth's mother._

_A person who had been nameless for a fraction of his life, a person with a face unseen. _

_He grew up without her, so he had no recollection of her save for a ring. The mercenaries raised him alongside his father, so he supposes that they were his other parental unit._

_A mother._

_Did any of the people he know have good relationships with their mother? _

_Byleth has no idea. He's not sure. _

_If Byleth grew up with his mother, would he be as emotionless as he was now?_

_Well. He should not dwell on the thought. _

_But his thoughts stray to that woman hovering above him, a soft and kind face, a loving smile. She smelled of flowers. Her hair matched Byleth. _

_Aside from that, what did Byleth know of her? Sitri Eisner was a mystery to him. Did she enjoy fish? Was she really that knowledgeable about flowers? Could she match his swordsmanship?_

_Did she-_

_Byleth swallows._

_Did she love him?_

_In theory, he knows. He knows that this is likely some weird scenario pulled from his mind by that weird turtle, meant to trap him in this mind numbing fog forever. To keep him pliant as he sees what only seemed to be a memory. To keep him asleep as the fight continues on around them._

_Byleth wants to see his mother._

_Even if it was not really her. He only wants to know. He wants to memorize her face and press the image of her into his unbeating heart. _

_He lifts his father's arm off from his shoulders and pushes it away. Jeralt blinks at him, smile fading a fraction. Byleth purses his lips._

_"What's wrong?" Jeralt asks him._

_"I want to see my mother," Byleth says._

_Jeralt laughs at him, ruffling his hair again. "You're still a child, huh? Go on then. She'll be there."_

_Byleth closes his eyes, weak to the easy affection given freely by his father. "Yes," he says, and then sprints toward the greenhouse, the fog parting for him._

_He runs straight into a person, nose knocking against their hard armor. Byleth pulls away, hand rubbing at their face. This is very weird._

_"Forgive me," Byleth says distantly, and then looks up at the person. His lips thin out into a line. _

_Byleth really was dreaming. Dima is here._

.

Sothis regards Yuri out of the corner of her eye. Something about him reminds her of Byleth. Not that they were anything alike personality wise, or clothing wise, but because of the way they held themselves. The androgynous beauty was similar too, wherein both Yuri and Byleth was the type of pretty that many a person would write stories and poetry about. The gleam of their polished weapons were similar too- they spoke of use and yet a tender care.

Perhaps that is why Sothis addresses him now. 

"...Yuri, was it?" Sothis begins, trying her best not to roll her eyes as the boy smiles at her. It wasn't so much his smile, which was definitely practiced in a mirror, but more so his attitude. Was it Sylvain that she was reminded of? 

The shade of red on his lips was different today.

"I am at your command," Yuri drawls. Sothis really cannot handle this type of person.

"There will likely be no need for you to intervene in anything," Sothis tells him. "You may leave. I'll tell Seiros later."

Yuri's lips turn up. "You don't want me to bask in your glorious presence?"

"No," Sothis says, blunt as always.

Yuri bursts out into laughter, hiding a smile behind a slender hand. "Well, I will be protecting you from elsewhere, anyway." Yuri says, as he walks off. Sothis watches him until he disappears into the crowd.

Sothis feels as if she can count every last speck of powder on her face. There is powder on her cheeks to make them flush, powder on her eyebrows to apparently, make them stand out, and powder on her eyes. She cannot remember what colour it is. Something dark? She had begun to daydream at this point.

Seiros had used a small brush with some sort of glossy product to apply it to her lips. Immediately Sothis gets hair stuck in it, so they have to redo it.

This time, her hair is pinned back into some sort of intricate braid, with flowers of all colours and shapes woven into the strands. What looks like a golden crown is placed upon her head. Despite all of the flashy colours on her head, her gown is as white as snow, the gown that Byleth said he preferred. Golden rings decorate each finger.

Around her ankles are small, golden rings that jangle and clink when she walks. Sothis thinks that they look like chains. 

There was indeed a time where she had dressed like this. Sothis remembers it vaguely, moreso the idea of it rather than the event. Gauze and sheer ribbons. Intricate crowns. And in spite of all those fluttery accessories, simple white dresses. 

It is odd now, to wear these. 

Especially in front of what seemed like thousands of people.

Sothis stood on the steps leading into the entrance hall of the academy, Seiros at her right hand. At the bottom of the stone steps were what seemed like thousands and thousands of people, stalls pushed aside to make room for more people.

They were all squished together as if they were in a jar, arms pressed to arms and hair tickling the napes of those near. 

Some of them are kneeling. Some of them are watching, for the sake of watching. Some are clearly non believers. Others look upon Sothis with awe.

Their faces blend together, and then suddenly, pushed by the wave of people, a child stumbles up onto the steps and falls face first onto the ground in front of Sothis.

Or, at least the child would have, if not for Sothis.

Immediately the goddess kneels to catch the child, and the Archbishop alongside the knights of Seiros kneel with her. Seeing this, the people try and kneel too, and yet the large crowd pressed together is close enough to only allow people to crouch.

The child looks up at Sothis. 

"Are you alright?" Sothis asks, voice soft. The clamoring crowd falls completely silent, eager to hear the voice of the goddess. 

Sothis feels a twinge of pity. The child looks too shaken to even speak. They only nod instead. 

A woman hobbles to the front of the crowd, pushing past people with one hand and drawing her shawl closer to herself. She wields a wooden stick as a cane, and leans against it. Her skirt rides up ever so slightly in the process, revealing a single leg. 

She falls to her knee in front of Sothis, head bowed low enough to touch the ground. "Forgive my son," the woman begs, voice trembling. "Forgive his sins. Come, come!"

The child scrambles into his mother's arms, shaking uncontrollably. She raises her head very slightly, just to make comforting noises at her son.

She does not look at Sothis.

It has been awhile since Sothis has ever had a human prostate themselves and beg in front of her. 

It is as unpleasant as it was the first time.

Seiros looks as if she is about to say something, but Sothis raises her hand. She snaps her mouth shut. "What are your names?" Sothis asks.

"This humble servant's name is- is- is- Jillian. Jillian Bell. And my son- his name is Ruben Bell." Jillian presses at her son's head for a moment to make him bow, too. "Thank you so much for catching him."

Sothis tilts her head, considering. "May I see that leg of yours?"

Jillian looks up at Sothis, eyes wide in horror, as if she does not understand. When she doesn't immediately obey, Seiros glares at the woman before Sothis can stop her. With shaky hands, the woman sits properly on the floor, hitching her skirt up to the knee. The surrounding people gasp at her single leg, and both Jillian and her son wince at the attention. Whispers start up in the crowd.

With an attentive expression, Sothis nods at her. "A gift," Sothis says, and waves her hand over the empty space.

The area shines for a moment. 

A new leg appears in its place. It does not blink into existence with a flash of light. It is simply there one moment, after a single breath. 

Silence falls over the crowd. Her entire body shaking like a leaf, Jillian stands, her cane clattering to the ground. She wiggles her new leg around. Jumps up and down. She even runs in place for a moment, face overcome with emotion.

And then, she falls to her knees and starts to sob openly. "My goddess!" Jillian cries, and cries, and cries. "I am- I am- Thank you so, so- Thank you!"

Her son leaps into his mother's arms, and then after a moment, into Sothis' arms too, much to her surprise.

That is the cue for the crowd to start cheering.

.

Sothis meets many, many people over the next few days. Folk from all over, from all ages and places. Some only watch her stand there, hands folded, and seem satisfied.

She will admit that there is something inhuman about her face, her body, her eyes. Especially the shade of green that her hair and eyes were. Uncommon, unseen. 

Surprisingly, not many people approach her. They look afraid. They walk with purpose, or with their heads down, and when Sothis lays her eyes upon them they immediately switch direction and walk away.

The goddess can hear the whispers, the rumors on the wind.

The progenitor god has returned. The arbiter of souls possesses unworldly beauty and power. The Beginning has come to walk this earth once more. The goddess is kind, and benevolent, and just. 

Sothis cannot wait for the rumors to reach the Adrestian Empire. 

She categorizes the people who approach her into four categories. The first one are the younger group, shy and yet bold from their youth. The next group varies wildly in a range of ages. They want Sothis to heal something or someone. Another group is wholly devout and seems as if they'll faint if Sothis so much as breathes the same air. Most of them crave advice, or an ear for listening. 

The final group are the ones who demand things of her. Not to heal, but for more selfish desires.

Sothis grants the easier prayers. Children that fall into this category are gifted small candies and tarts. Sothis favors the bold who approach her, those who want to become strong. She gives the worthy ones, the ones with no ulterior motive a boon. Strength, Reason.... Sothis has always smiled upon the strong.

There are indeed selfish people. One farmer strides up to her and demands that she strike down the farm closest to him, for stealing his seeds and crops.

Sothis loudly informs him that he can read minds, and knows the true thief. She does not attempt to conceal her anger. The farmer runs off, nearly pissing himself.

More rumors spread. The goddess is benevolent and kind to those who deserve it. She does not look kindly upon liars. 

The progenitor god is able to know an individual's heart and weigh it. 

It is not exactly a lie.

Mostly, she's surprised at how easy most of the people take to her presence. Some vendors have offered her little trinkets and treats as tribute. Sothis receives so many baked goods and little bread rolls. Children press flowers into her hands. Craftsmen present works by their own hands. A number of people pray to her, and bashfully ask her if she can truly hear.

She can.

Sothis accepts them all.

.

_"Hello," Byleth says. "It is nice to see you again."_

_Dima only tilts his head mockingly to one side, expression blank, but eyes bright. "Liar," he says, pleasantly. _

_Byleth shrugs, and attempts to walk around him, when Dima grabs his wrist and forces Byleth to look at him. _

_Since it is a dream, Byleth can easily pull his hand out of Dima's unyielding grip, and he does just that. "Goodbye," Byleth says, and walks away._

_Dima hurries to stand in front of Byleth, still grinning. "You must wake now, Byleth. Who knows how long you'll spend just staring at that person."_

_Byleth is aware of this, and yet... "That is my mother," he mutters._

_Still, Dima does not move, just shaking his head. "It is not. It is made from the culmination of your memories, and the memories of those around you."_

_"The mercenaries?" Byleth asks._

_Dima nods, grin a tad too sharp. _

_"Then you are also simply a culmination of all my memories," Byleth says, and walks around him again. Dima does not stop him this time, and simply walks with him._

_The sound of his footsteps is achingly familiar and nostalgic. _

_"Do you really think so?" Dima asks. His legs are longer, so his stride is too, and yet he slows down to match Byleth's pace with ease._

_Byleth sighs. He can barely see the greenhouse through the fog. "What else could you possibly be?"_

_"I'm Dimitri," Dima says._

_"Observant," Byleth replies._

_"I'm a Dimitri that loves you," Dima informs him. _

_Byleth stops for a moment. Dima takes advantage of that. "I love you," Dima repeats, and Areadbhar appears in his hands. _

_The massive eyes above their heads shake and writhe violently as they start to glow. _

_"I'm very flattered, but this is not really the moment," Byleth replies, eyes on the familiar weapon. _

_"I love you," Dima repeats, bringing Areadbhar above his head. "I love you, so forgive me for this. Do not allow me to make you or myself lose sight of the future."_

_The king brings Areadbhar down._

.

Byleth gasps, taking in a large breath of air. First, his surroundings. His eyes swim as he watches distant, blurry figures engage in combat with a larger figure. The students, and that turtle, Byleth guesses.

He can just barely hear Seteth and Flayn yelling at it for some reason.

On his left, Claude is sitting at his side, shaking an unconscious Edelgard, slumped over on the ground. His eyes grow wide when he sees Byleth. They are puffy, for some reason. Well, Edelgard was probably not dead. 

Byleth realizes that Edelgard is not unconscious, but in a daze. Her eyes, normally alert, are pale and unseeing. Hubert is kneeling by her side.

On his right is Dimitri.

His fingers are digging so hard into his arm, Byleth can practically feel something attempt to bend. The armor there, now indented, only just barely protects him. The prince's eyes are blank too, focused on an invisible target.

A puddle of vomit seeps into the the clothing covering his knees. There's remnants of it on his lips too. Annette, Linhardt, and Mercedes, are talking. Byleth cannot hear them. His ears ring violently. They're waving heal spell over heal spell on them.

With unwavering hands, Byleth pries Dimitri's fingers from him and wills his ears and eyes to focus.

Byleth stands with little trouble and the three of them, including Claude, gawk at him, and immediately yell at him to stand down. He pays no attention to them. First, that turtle.

Where was his sword?

The Sword of the Creator had flown across the stone when he was knocked down. 

What did Sothis say, that one time? About calling the sword to him?

Oh, Sothis!

_Sothis._

_ **What is it, Byleth? I am a little busy right now.** _

_I had another odd dream, Sothis._

_ **Did your Dima lick something el-** _

_Sothis, do not be crude. _

_ **Whatever. What is wrong?** _

_Hmm. Long story short, a turtle knocked me out and sent me to sleep. I think they did the same with Dimitri and Edelgard. My head hurts._

_ **Oh, good.** _

_Sothis._

_ **I didn't mean you or that prince of yours! I meant Edelgard, duh. But, really? Huh. Call me over when you revert him to his true form.** _

_Revert?_

_ **Yeah, he won't listen otherwise. Call my name, and cut down with the sword! Bye now.** _

Again, Byleth had no idea what reverting the creature meant, but first...

"Come!" Byleth calls, and the Sword of the Creator quite literally flies into his hands. Byleth feels quite giddy about that. 

He runs toward the turtle thing- 

-and sees most of his students, beaten and bloody. They're conscious, but....

Byleth takes in their bruises, the cuts over their eyes. Sylvain walks with a limp, and Lysithea looks as if she is about to pass out. Dedue looks furious. 

Seteth and Flayn are still yelling at the creature.

Byleth adjusts his grip on the sword and weaves in and out between the turtle's legs, ducking under its massive belly and slashing away at the weakened shield. It roars in pain, the sound bouncing around Byleth's head.

He ducks away from the turtle when it tries to bring its weight down to crush him, and hacks away at another weak shield. Byleth watches in absentminded satisfaction as the shield weakens.

"Everything alright?" Byleth asks Seteth and Flayn, although he does not look at them. His eyes linger on the creature.

"Yes," Seteth says, breathlessly. "I thought he would listen to us."

Byleth shrugs one shoulder as the creature turns to look at him.

"Oh, it's you," the creature greets, eyes on Byleth. And Byleth was indeed correct. The one watching him in his dreams was indeed the weird turtle thing. "You woke up? I'm surprised!"

Byleth says nothing.

"Cichol, Cethleann, why are you companions with this creature?" The turtle says, and they both wince at the use of those names. "You must know that this thing is hardly human, much less one of us."

Flayn rapidly shakes her head, while Seteth scowls. "What are you talking about?"

"Can you not smell the stench wafting off of this thing?" The creature says 'thing' the way the people from his last life spat Edelgard's name. "Look at it. It's hardly complete. It may look like one of us, but it is not."

Byleth tilts his head to one side. "Says the ugly turtle," he says evenly, and nearly grins at the offended roar that fills the air.

.

Duke Aegir is a sweaty, greasy little man who Sothis can smell the arrogance wafting off of, as well as horrendous cologne. Sothis wonders how Ferdinand turned out like that while his father seemed to be pompous and quite frankly, a waste of space.

He is saying something about gifts. Sothis is not paying attention to anything but his bald spot, and the churning thoughts of this man's mind.

Sothis can practically see his brain and heart, laid out for her to dissect and poke at. His pointless ambition. His weak heart. His sins, digging into his heels with claws, as if to pull him under.

"I am not interested in your offerings," Sothis says, examining her fingers.

Duke Aegir nervously scratches at his head. Sothis wonders if Ferdinand will become bald, too. What a thought. "But, Sothis-"

"And who exactly," Sothis murmurs, drawing out the words slowly, "allowed you to call me by name?"

A surge of magic rushes over Duke Aegir and his henchmen, and brings the man to his knees. He's barely breathing. A crowd of people are watching, giggling at the man. 

"Oh, holy goddess," Duke Aegir stammers, and Sothis rolls her eyes. "These are the finest jewels of Adrestia. You would do well to accept them."

Seiros' hands clench for a brief second. Sothis giggles, and another wave of magic makes them sink to the floor.

"Or what?" Sothis asks, grin sharp. She picks up an emerald from the box presented and makes a show of examining it with a blank expression. The Duke's throat bobs.

He tries to speak and nothing leaves his mouth. Sothis casts the jewel at his feet. "You must know I do not care for these trinkets, especially ones that men like you drool and pant over like greedy little dogs."

No one even breathes. Sothis is still smiling peacefully, serene as ever. "You know that I can see your sins, right?"

It seems as if Duke Aegir is turning purple. Even the crowd, a mix of folk from all stations, are mocking him behind hands.

"I can read minds," Sothis says, once again. "Would you like me to reveal what you just thought about me? Me, the goddess? What about what you think of your men, this crowd, even your own son?"

Sothis swears that the man is about to vomit in fear. She smirks at him. "Now if you'll excuse me."

She turns away from the man still trembling on the ground, and his angry, yet absolutely terrified thoughts. Byleth was waiting for her, after all.

.

Quietly, Byleth hands Flayn the Sword of the Creator.

Byleth's hair tie has slipped from his hair in the commotion. The loose strands are getting in his eyes. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back out of his face. 

"Revert," Byleth says, voice as chilly as the falling snow around them. 

The creature laughs and laughs and laughs.

Byleth thinks of Dimitri's haunted eyes, the way that Annette was pulling at his sleeve, tears dripping down her face. The wide eyed expressions of the Blue Lions as they likely watched their prince throw up violently onto the floor, gagging and crying. Claude, knees shaking and fingers gripping onto gray stone. The mercenaries, trembling around the grip of their swords.

His thoughts even stray to Edelgard, who has not moved her blank stare nor her crumpled body from the sleek, crumbled stone. That was his target alone. If anyone was going to get rid of her, it would be-

Byleth points a finger at the Immovable, face scrunching up into a ferocious, angry scowl, eyebrows scrunched together and teeth bared. He can feel the rage, white hot, like flames licking and dancing in his chest, consuming him from the inside and forging him anew. A sigil appears in front of his finger, and his other hand grips in his hair so hard Byleth thinks that if he moves he'll rip out the strands.

"**_I command thee! REVERT!_**" 

The Immovable's form flickers, their roar shrill and deafening. The amorphous mass that was their body writhes and shudders and crumples in on itself. Fog curls around them, then seems to strangle them, hold them-

A body drops to the floor. 

Long, long, _long_ hair the shade of the shrubbery covers their body, unclothed. Byleth watches as that creature puts a hand to their mouth and vomits into it, gagging wildly as if their life's intention was to empty themselves of everything in their body.

The bile that spills from the cracks between their fingers is the colour of the night sky. Pitch black. Byleth cannot look away.

With the back of their hand, the Immovable wipes the black mess at their mouth. They grin wildly at Byleth, and their teeth are washed in that black, oozing mess. 

Their lips part, and the creature immediately gags, hands going for their throat. When they breathe, a wheezing, croaking noise leaves their lips. It is as if their lungs were filled with the same fire that had just consumed Byleth.

They struggle to stand, dropping to all fours and trying to lift their body weight up from the ground, shaking strongly all the while. Hands grip into thighs and draw blood. Some part of their hair has been caught in the dark ooze, and now clumps of it stick together unnaturally. 

In spite of the darkness clinging to their body, their skin is unblemished and clear, without a single scar, beauty mark, or freckle. There are no calluses, no evidence of experience with weaponry on their hands or arms. Byleth feels as if he is staring at a statue, a mere mockery of a person.

But then again, this person was not really a person, were they. They must be some sort of divinity if they were Sothis' kin. Maybe they were a god themselves? Byleth had no idea how this worked.

A thought pops up in Byleth's head. Wasn't he technically Sothis' kin, too? But he didn't feel remotely godlike. Nor could he turn into a dragon, which was most upsetting.

For now.

A single drop of darkness falls from their hair to the ground. 

Scuffing their knees, they finally stand. Byleth meets their gaze head on, unbothered by the nudity. It seems as if they too, are unbothered. No part of them is covered by their hair, swept over one shoulder.

Their clear, piercing gaze is what finally allows Byleth to see the resemblance between this individual and Sothis.

Another weak croak leaves their mouth. When they finally speak, it's rough and clearly grating against their throat.

"You're really not human, are you?" 

Byleth stares them down. He opens his mouth to make a guess. 

"Indech," Byleth says. 

Indech tilts his head in acknowledgement. "I thought," Indech begins, and then pauses to cough, knees still weak. "I thought you were one of us."

The Immovable gestures to Byleth's face and hair, and then wrinkles his nose. "Turns out you're not. You're barely human, either. You reek of that woman. Who are you?"

"What did you show them?" Byleth asks, cutting him off. Indech rolls his eyes, tucking a strand of his long hair behind one ear. It's pointed. Byleth cannot help but stare. There are also remnants of what seemed to be a piercing hole.

"Same as you," Indech says, eyeing the sword in Byleth's hand. "An impossible reality."

The goddess whispers Byleth's name.

"I see," Byleth says, as he brings an arm up over his head and brings his sword down into a sharp line. He remembers doing this a lifetime ago.

The air in front of him parts for his sword, and the atmosphere shivers and breaks under the blade. Fingers poke out of the crack, then push at the sides, forcing a bigger opening in the glowing, humming rift of the universe split in front of them.

For a moment, the entire world stills.

A ripple of movement, and Byleth's heart returns to its chest.

Hands, pushing. A foot slips out, then another, and then finally, a head. A sound, like gentle waves. Foot meets ground and the sound echoes around them.

Sothis steps out of the void and glares at Indech, arms folding across her chest. Indech immediately drops to both knees, head ducking so fast Byleth can hear it collide against the smooth stone.

"Bow," Indech grits out, and a wave of something washes over Byleth. It feels as if it was scrambling his head, like eggs in a hot pan. 

Byleth does not want to bow, so he does not. Indech looks up briefly to glare at Byleth and-

A hand slaps Indech across the face, so hard that Indech actually tumbles back to the ground, hands scrambling for purchase in the cracks of stone. When he finally straightens, one hand raises to his cheek, now blossomed in an unruly shade of dotted red.

"You know your wrongdoings," Sothis snarls.

"Mother," Indech gasps, and his eyes actually well with beady little tears. "How could you hit me?"

Sothis rolls her eyes. "Quit the act, child."

Immediately, the tears in Indech's eyes disappear, and he practically pouts at Sothis. "Mother, they are below us. But I did not seek them out of my own volition. If they stumbled onto my territory, they seek death."

Sothis leans in, and a strand of hair falls from the intricate golden hair piece fastened to her head. It drops slowly onto Indech's bare shoulder, resting there as Sothis' eyes alight with fire. "_Your_ territory?" Sothis asks coolly.

Byleth watches the slight movement of that man's throat. "I was wrong," Indech stammers, voice unsure. 

"And?"

"I apologize." Indech says.

Sothis giggles. "You're supposed to look at the person you apologize to," Sothis spits, taking Indech's head by his chin and forcing him to turn to Byleth. "_Apologize to him._"

Indech looks Byleth up and down. "Mother, what even is this person?"

A wave of- _something-_ rolls off of Sothis' body, threatening and terrifying, choking the air from Byleth's lungs and the slightest movement of his body, even if it was to breathe. Indech is shaking, fists clenching into the floor and drawing blood easily, even with his clipped nails.

Byleth cannot look at Sothis' face. He fears that he will find something he does not want to lay eyes upon.

"Forgive me," Indech tells him.

Momentarily, Byleth gazes upon this man. He didn't seem to be ashamed of his unclothed body, nor did he seem like Rhea, his sibling. Something about the man was very different.

"I'm not the one that you have to apologize to," Byleth says evenly, looking at his tired students. He locks eyes with Dimitri and the boy barely stirs, staring through Byleth rather than at him.

He wonders what Dimitri saw.

Byleth walks over to the prince, eyes blank. As he crouches down next to Dimitri, Byleth gently touches at his bangs, brushing them away from his face. The prince finally looks at Byleth.

Honestly, Byleth was afraid of what he would find in the prince's face. A man, long lost to a time that only Byleth was privy to? A man sitting in the ruins of the goddess tower, standing in front of the rubble, demanding a certain head to roll?

But those were all Dima.

"Are you-"

He does not get to finish his sentence, as Dimitri throws his arms around Byleth, squeezing so hard around his armor Byleth can practically feel the indents being made. The Blue Lions all hurriedly heal one another, healing spells filling the air, and concoctions trading hands.

"You're going to crush the professor," Dedue says, although it sounds more weak and more distant compared to his usual cool demeanor.

Hesitating, Byleth brings his arms up around Dimitri, pressing the prince closer, chest to chest. 

The snow has slowly become cold sputtering of thin rain. A drop lands on Byleth's eyelashes and he blinks it away.

"Can you breathe with me?" Byleth says, remembering what his father did with the mercenaries that seemed to be having panic attacks, or shaky nervous spells. Byleth takes a deep breath, and then another. After a minute, Dimitri copies these exercises, his breathing stuttering. When it becomes more steady, Byleth pulls away. Dimitri's arms twitch around him, as if to bring him closer, but his arms fall from the contact.

"What did you see?" Byleth says.

Patiently, he waits. Byleth is expecting many answers, like the vision of a younger girl with brown hair tied into ponytails. A king long gone. A mother lost from a carriage. Taking Dedue's trembling hand.

So Byleth is not expecting Dimitri's real response. 

"I saw you. I watched you die to a dagger," Dimitri informs him shakily, and Byleth freezes up.

If he gets lost in his own day dreams long enough, Byleth can still feel the smooth, excruciating slide of its blade, the blood caught in his throat, the pain that seemed to set his blood aflame. He can still see the slow moving ceiling above his head, swearing he could see the sky above.

A dagger.

How very specific. How very coincidental. There was no way that Dimitri was aware. 

If he was, he would have already taken care of Edelgard with his own two hands. Byleth resists the urge to reach for his own throat and touch the tiny beauty mark there, in the hollowed out space.

"I am still here," Byleth replies, and he does not know whether or not he is reassuring Dimitri or himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY YALL I WILL NOT BE UPLOADING NEXT WEEK CAUSE DESPITE THE FACT THAT SOCIETY IS COLLAPSING SOME PEOPLE GOTTA DO FINALS LIKE WHAT IS UP WITH THAT 
> 
> next time on godspeed: sothis meets a face unseen for like the past 20 chapters! byleth tears into a turtle! something happens with a certain prince! look forward to it!
> 
> literally my island is about 5/8ths sexy. i cannot organize flowers for shit lol.
> 
> thank you so very much for reading ♡
> 
> byleth/dimitri B rank  
byleth/dedue B rank  
byleth/felix B rank  
byleth/annette B rank  
byleth/ingrid B rank  
byleth/sylvain B rank  
byleth/mercedes B rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt B rank  
byleth/ferdinand B rank  
byleth/lysithea B rank  
byleth/cyril C+ rank  
byleth/flayn B rank  
byleth/caspar B rank  
byleth/dorothea C+ rank
> 
> byleth/jeritza C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/sothis A rank  
byleth/claude C+ rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea C+ rank


	36. when fate collides

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello you beautiful people! did you miss me? i missed you very dearly! 
> 
> IM SO SORRY I HAVE SO MANY COMMENTS TO RESPOND TO AAAA ILL BE ON IT RIGHT AWAY
> 
> im fucking free now, thank god! fuck school! good luck to everyone that still has classes, you got this! and thanks for your well wishes rhshhdhdhd i appreciate them very much
> 
> okay apparently i forgot to add a line last chapter but im too lazy to rn dhdhhdhd OKAY THE REASON WHY INGRID GAINED SUPPORT IS THAT SHE WAS PLEASED THAT BYLETH WAS TREATING HER CHILDHOOD FRIEND AND FUTURE KING WITH KINDNESS LET'S PRETEND I ADDED A LINE LIKE THAT DHHDHDHDH
> 
> gosh i noticed a sudden spike in readers, that may be the guest count back on but if you're new and here hello! leave a kudo if you're so inclined, and thanks for reading so far! onto the chapter!

It would be cruel to ask if Dimitri was able to stand, so Byleth does not. Instead, he leans down and scoops one arm under the prince's knees and lifts him up quietly, effortlessly. 

At first, Dimitri only melts in his arms, and once he realizes what he is actually doing, the prince struggles in Byleth's embrace.

"You can put me down!" Dimitri exclaims, weakly batting at Byleth's chest. Byleth knows that if this boy had used his full strength, he may have some broken ribs.

Byleth spins him around and Dimitri actually yelps, a squeaky, surprised sound. "I cannot hear you," Byleth says, still spinning.

Dimitri gapes at the man. Byleth completely understands. It must be out of character for him. But still, he refuses to let go of the prince. In fact, he tightens his grip on the boy a fraction more.

Byleth spins another time on his toes and turns to see Sothis yanking Indech by the ear harshly. Byleth is still amazed at the pointed ear. It is quite cute.

"Mother!" Indech squeals, weakly batting at Sothis' firm hand. "Stop it, let go!"

Sothis pulls, and it does not look gentle. Byleth winces at the sight. "Who taught you to act like this, huh?" Another tank. Indech whines. "Look at you! Killing for the sake of killing, treating humans like garbage; you are in big trouble, young man!"

Indech whines a little louder. Any more and Byleth thinks that he will be able to summon dogs and cats from all over the country. "Mother, let go of me! They're the ones that treated us like that in the first place!"

"That doesn't mean you treat every human like that!" Sothis yells, and Indech winces and hurries to cover the ear that was not being pulled at. "If we killed and treated every single individual like the way we have been treated, we would be no better than monsters!"

"But they hurt you-"

Sothis sighs and flicks her son on the nose. 

Indech bites down on his lower lip indignantly. Sothis lets go of his ear in favor of the man's hand, and pulls, but weaker. "Come now," Sothis says gently. "You cannot have missed me that much, can you?"

"Mother," Indech breathes, as hot tears drip down his face.

Sothis allows the man to clutch at her for another moment, before she sighs. "You're still in huge trouble," Sothis spits. "Give them everything you have hoarded over the years. I've heard through the vine that you still do such a thing?"

"I don't want to," Indech says simply, and squirms when Sothis reaches for his other ear. "Fine, fine! Mother, you're so mean to me!"

Indech's eyes glow for a brief moment, and then suddenly dozens of weapons fall onto the stone floor, clattering noisily and spreading into various directions. Sothis gives him a look. More weapons appear and tumble to the ground.

A beat. "Indech."

"Fine!" A bow floats down from the fog, more gently than the other weapons were treated.

Byleth catches it in the air, briefly shifting Dimitri's weight to one hand so her can catch with the other. It's an incredible weapon, and although Byleth has never been one to favor the bow, he can see the appeal of this one. Slender and well kept, a golden gleam. 

He examines it. There is something odd about this bow. It does not feel like a weapon that Byleth has ever seen, but it does not exactly seem similar to the Sword of the Creator either. Something about it made Byleth double take.

Sothis sighs, and reaches up to pull at the boy's cheeks. "I wonder if the humans have taken to calling you 'The Immovable' since you're such a brat," Sothis snorts. "Noble, wise, and granting wishes? Don't make me laugh."

"Does this weapon have a name?" Byleth asks, voice soft. 

Indech glances at Byleth, and with a huff, turns away. Sothis immediately tugs at his ear again. "Fine, fine! Mother, unhand me!" Indech takes a deep breath, and with great purpose and tone he gestures to the bow. "This is The Inexhaustible, a sacred weapon."

Byleth nods at the name. "Ashe?"

Ashe, who was brushing off dirt and pointedly not looking in Indech's general direction, perks up at the sound of his name. "What is it, professor?"

"Here," Byleth says, walking over to him and handing Ashe the bow. "Take this."

Indech sputters as the bow is placed in Ashe's hands. The boy in question looks flustered. "O-oh! Thank you very much, professor! But I, I- I really don't think that I'm able to wield this properly yet."

Byleth only stares. "Yes, you can. You are already an incredible archer."

Ashe blushes, scratching nervously at his face. The flushed pink colour in his cheeks make his freckles stand out even clearer. He looks down at the bow and firmly holds onto it, back suddenly straight.

"Sothis, you are going to take the turtle back to the academy, right?" Byleth asks.

"Yes," Sothis agrees, and her tone promises danger. Byleth does not envy Indech in this moment. "Yes, indeed I am."

Byleth holds up the prince in his arms very slightly. "Would you bring Dimitri with you?"

Dimitri begins to sputter and protest. "I'm fine, professor! Really, I am! The dream I saw just bothered me for a moment, but I am alright now." Dimitri protests.

Turning his head away, Byleth addresses Sothis. "And Claude too, as well as the princess."

Claude, while he was quiet before, now also begins to frown and speak up. "Hey now, professor! I'm a-okay! Really, the young royalty should just head back together." Byleth sends him a look, which Claude ignores.

Sothis gives him a look and Byleth can somehow feel the memories in his head jostle around and rearrange themselves, as if his head was a library and Sothis was flipping through books and casting them aside when she did not find what she was looking for. "All of you are coming back with us," Sothis states, her tone leaving no room to argue. When Byleth opens his mouth, Sothis shakes her head. "No arguments. Besides. Rest is important. Stay at the academy for a few days, and then you can set off again."

Claude almost looks as if he is pouting. "Hey now. It'll be a long journey back! I think it'll be faster if we just go our separate ways."

Sothis rolls her eyes, sighing softly. "Byleth, you know what to do."

Byleth blinks at her.

The goddess snaps her fingers, like he was a misbehaving pet. Byleth still blinks, confused.

"My goodness," Sothis scolds. "Did you not just summon me?"

"Ah," Byleth replies. "Does it work for whenever I desire to travel?"

Sothis folds her arms across her chest with a smug sort of expression. "Byleth, Byleth, Byleth. Of course you can! As long as it is a place that you have previously visited, you can probably use the sword to go there at any time at all!"

"Probably?" Byleth asks.

"I didn't use a sword when I teleported," Sothis informs him. "I used a spell. Think of the warp spell, but a longer range and with more power. That power should be yours, too."

"That is so cool," Byleth responds. He does a brief headcount of the students, who are all murming to each other. "Ah. Excuse me, please put on some clothes."

Indech looks down at his body, still completely nude. "Why?"

Sothis groans so loudly Byleth wonders if the nearby birds have taken to flight. Byleth can hear the sound reverberate in his ears. "I apologize about him," Sothis says, sounding a little embarrassed. "He does not understand common sense or even shame."

The goddess pulls at the air, and it shifts in her grasp, and Sothis shakes it ever so slightly as it takes form into white fabric. Byleth watches in amazement. Sothis haphazardly tosses it onto Indech's body, and somehow it is fitted there, tying up two corners at his shoulders and falling down to his ankles. The fabric bunches to create a waist, and although there is still a long gap of thigh that would almost be scandalous, he is decent now. The students finally can look at him without blushing, or covering their eyes.

Indech stands properly, straightening to his full height. He looks very shiny. Byleth does not know how else to describe it. He runs a hand through his long hair and tosses it over one shoulder with a languid sort of nature.

"So I was right," Indech comments. He looks at Byleth through long lashes and tilts his chin up. "You do have that sort of look, don't you?"

Byleth watches the turtle man wearily as he approaches. Absentmindedly, he hugs Dimitri closer to his chest as if to protect and shield him.

"Now that I look at you," Indech says, cupping one hand behind Byleth's head and dragging him closer, "you've got a pretty nice face. You must be one of us, regardless of stench. I was probably right the first time."

"Don't touch him," Sothis scolds, "your intentions are weird."

With those words, Byleth jerks away from him with a frown. "I do not appreciate being touched by strangers," Byleth says, ducking under Indech's hand once more, all while keeping Dimitri in his arms.

"You're hardly a stranger," Indech says, although his eyes are cold. "If mother has-"

"Stop talking," Sothis snaps, tapping her foot against the ground. "You're not allowed to say weird things to Byleth. Come now, Byleth. Think long and hard about the academy, and bring down the sword."

"Flayn?" Byleth calls, and the girl in question yelps and scurries to Byleth, practically throwing the sword at him. He tilts ever so slightly to the side to make sure that the prince, still in his arms, would not be hurt by the handling of the blade.

Byleth sighs. What an odd day.

He thinks long and hard about the academy and slashes a long line into the air. The cut seems to shine and tremble, and then suddenly it parts to reveal the inside of his father's office. 

"After you," Byleth says, monotone. As the students pass him, he does yet another count. The Blue Lions were all accounted for. So too were the Golden Deer, as well as the Black Eagles.

Byleth meets the gaze of Hubert, carrying Edelgard. His eyes have a shadow casted over them. 

Edelgard is shaking like a leaf in his arms. Her fists are curled so tightly, that her nails make indents in her palms, strong enough to draw blood. 

He steps through the portal.

Dimitri stares after her, frown becoming more and more pronounced. "I think that I should speak with her," Dimitri murmurs, not quiet enough to be unheard by Byleth.

"Hurry up!" Byleth hears Sothis call from the other side.

Sighing, Byleth steps through the portal and does not flinch when the gap closes shut behind him.

.

Since Byleth's father was not in his office, he brings Dimitri to Manuela's infirmary directly, even though the boy is protesting that idea very loudly. He is right on Hubert's heels. 

Before he leaves, Byleth looks at Dedue and Hilda pointedly, and then directs his gaze to Claude.

Dedue and Hilda nod, the former solemn and the latter grinning so wide Byleth wonders if it will split her face.

The two of them grab Claude by his arms and march alongside Byleth, as the boy whines and begs to be set free.

When they reach Manuela's room, she's on her stool and reading one of those really bad novels that Byleth regrets even laying his eyes on. 

"Ah, who is it- professor?! What in the world happened? Hurry and bring those students over! They look terrible!"

Claude is still struggling in their grip. "I'm totally fine! Hey, guys, come on!"

Hilda sticks his tongue out at the boy, while Dedue looks away. Claude sighs and resigns himself to his fate as the two place him on a bed.

"Okay, okay," Manuela scolds. "Out, all of you. Even you, Hubert. Yes, I am talking to you."

Hubert's expression shifts, but he backs off, striding out of the room with an unpleasant face. He gives Edelgard a final look as he's herded away.

Hilda and Dedue are promptly shooed away, but Byleth stays for a moment longer after he sets Dimitri down on a bed of his own. 

"Manuela?" Byleth asks, in a small whisper. He does not want Dimitri to hear him, at all.

Manuela does not move from her stool, but her eyes dart over to Byleth to show that she is listening. 

"Would you talk to Dimitri separately after you are finished examining all of the others. He's..." Byleth trails off, not knowing how to explain his situation.

Manuela nods at him, imperceptibly. Then her serious expression changes to one of a scolding face, and she hurriedly kicks Byleth out with vague hand motions. "Okay, okay. I have to look after the patients now. You can come back later!"

Manuela slams the door in his face. Byleth stares at the closed door for a moment longer, before backing away and heading to his own room for a long, long nap. Sothis is already there, making herself cozy under the sheets. Indech is not present. 

Byleth sighs at the sight of his bed and hurries to dive under the covers.

.

Claude bursts into Byleth's room. Sothis only digs under the blanket more, hiding her face under the covers. Byleth barely even flinches now. He likes to think that he has become used to the abrupt and invasive behavior of his students and all that reside at the academy.

"I think that Edelgard is the Flame Emperor," Claude informs him, tone bewildered.

Byleth yawns, wiping at his face. He squints at the moon outside the window, thankfully not two large freaky eyes. "Claude, it is two hours until dawn."

Claude only walks over to Byleth to shake him. "Aren't you surprised?"

Sothis groans for about ten seconds. "Tell 'im to leaaaaaaave."

Byleth rolls his shoulders so Claude is no longer grabbing them and lies back down. "Sothis says you have to leave."

"But why?" Claude demands. "Listen, you have to hear this. When I was trying to get her to snap out of whatever state she was in, she was mumbling some weird things."

Sothis throws a pillow at Claude's head without looking and he dodges with an easy finesse of someone that has dodges pillows many times before.

"Hnghrhm," Byleth agrees.

"I've decided that it's best to talk to you. You know, since you already seem to know everything about me and what's going on with everyone else," Claude says, sounding distinctly as if he is plotting something. Byleth does not have the mental capacity to process any of this at the moment. "So, what do you think we should do?"

"Phrmfgh," Byleth replies.

Claude nods as if he had understood him. "I agree. Now we're best friends for life. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer, and your best friends glued to your hip, as the saying goes."

"Claude, can we talk about this in the morning?" Byleth mutters, very close to throwing a pillow at him himself.

"So you're not that surprised... And professor, it is technically already morning!" Claude trails off. Byleth finds enough strength to glare at Claude, who laughs under the intense gaze. "Okay, talk to you then!"

Claude slams the door and Sothis throws another pillow, just a beat too late. 

Byleth hardly remembers what Claude just said. No matter. He'll think properly at a more decent hour.

.

It is late when Jeralt hears the whimpers. 

Not everyone would catch them. But Jeralt's ears are fine tuned to even the tiniest sounds- for use in battle, judging where the enemy was, and for Byleth. Jeralt can still remember, as clear as day, how frightened he was that his child would not even cry, would not scream or shriek, and Jeralt would perhaps never know if something was wrong.

So he learned to listen to breathing. Hitches in the air. The smallest little huffs. Before that, he hardly ever got a wink of sleep, but honestly, he didn't mind.

The sight of Byleth, a tiny, swaddling little thing blinking eyes that seemed too large for his head seemed to cast aside all thoughts of anything else. He had stared up, eyes fixated on Jeralt when he was not asleep. When he was asleep, he would kick and punch and curl up into a ball. It seemed as if Byleth was able to realize when Jeralt was not in close proximity, even when asleep, for the boy would sniffle but never cry, and Jeralt would hurry back to his crib.

That was his son.

For the longest time, Jeralt had subjected himself to being alone. There were the mercenaries, sure, but for a time he believed that they were only in it for the money. He didn't have a family either, and if he did, he surely did not remember them. It was practically a lifetime ago, a shadow in his memory.

Then Sitri had come into his life. And then Sitri had blessed them a with a child.

Jeralt remembers crying when Byleth does eventually make a sound. He was burping the babe over his shoulder and Byleth had made a small hiccup. The mercenaries had teased him for crying over that, but they looked teary eyed as well.

He watches his son grow. 

A silent child, hiding behind Jeralt's leg with tiny fingers bunched into the rough fabric. Byleth's first word. A slightly older Byleth, picking up a sword. Older still, wordlessly doing kind deeds. Fishing quietly, side by side. The quiet tilt of Byleth's head, so that everyone knew that he was listening.

An adult now, yet still a child in Jeralt's eyes. While Byleth no longer needed to hide behind his father, Jeralt hopes that his son knew that he would shield him from everything, no matter what.

So that is why when Jeralt hears about the suffering that his son had endured, he had to stop himself from running over and getting rid of Edelgard himself. Rhea, too. While he didn't mind working for her occasionally, he didn't trust her at all. 

Even if Byleth wished it...

If Edelgard laid one finger on his son, he would take care of the problem himself.

Jeralt follows the whimpers to Manuela's office, and speak of the devil- Edelgard was fast asleep in one bed.

Dimitri was tossing and turning in the other.

Now, Jeralt did not know how to feel about Dimitri. The boy was not particularly unlikable, nor was he annoying, but the looks that he gave his son-

"H-help..." 

Jeralt snaps out of his reverie and strides over to Dimitri's bedside. He places a hand on Dimitri's shoulder, gently shaking him. "Hey," Jeralt murmurs. "Hey, wake up, kid. You're having a nightmare."

The prince tosses and turns and kicks at his bedsheets as Jeralt attempts various ways to wake him up-

A hand lunges at Jeralt. Thinking fast, Jeralt grabs and twists it in one fell motion, pinning it to the bed. Dimitri hisses in pain and swats the hand away with enough power for Jeralt to near wince.

Jeralt was expecting some sort of retaliation. He had met several people like the prince, haunted by their past as well as their actions, who were lost in their nightmares and shadows and never took well to being woken. Still, it was better than being trapped in that nightmare until inevitably they woke up, crying and screaming.

But Dimitri's face is blank.

"I'm sorry for raising my hand against you," he says as he catches his breath, although the words lack conviction, much less emotion.

"Don't worry," Jeralt says. "Wanna talk about it?"

Dimitri swallows, although the sound itself is dry. "No," Dimitri declares.

Jeralt nods in understanding. "Alright," he says, and starts to leave when a hand grabs at his sleeve. 

The prince does not say a single word. Jeralt can feel him tremble, so he sits down on the bed without a word.

They sit in silence before Jeralt speaks up. "My son returned safely, right?"

Dimitri does not answer. It may be a bit too early for him to be coherent, so Jeralt does not fault him for his silence. Another minute passes before he nods.

Jeralt cannot help a grin. "That's great. I am glad that you returned safely, too."

Silence. Another nod.

"Thank you," Dimitri rasps. 

Jeralt closes his eyes. The sound of his voice is terribly sad. 

"I have a question for you," Dimitri whispers, feather soft and barely audible.

"Go ahead."

"Is killing people that have done terrible things so wrong?" Dimitri begins, eyes practically glued shut. "Let us say that they had killed people themselves, and caused terrible pain, and ruined the lives of many. Is that wrong, then, to kill them? To think that they deserve death?"

Jeralt is silent for a moment too long, in between breaths.

"It's a terrible feeling for me to have, isn't it?" Dimitri says, eyes shadowed by his bangs. It casts a darkness over his face that Jeralt would call ominous, if he were the sort to be scared by shaking children.

"Uh, yeah," Jeralt says.

Dimitri's fists clench in the blankets covering his body. They're trembling so much that he is literally tearing the fabric.

Jeralt sighs, rubbing at his face absentmindedly. "That is the easy answer," Jeralt continues. "To tell the truth, I'm not exactly the most morally upstanding guy. I mean, look at me. I'm a mercenary. I made my son a mercenary, too. The truth is, that some people have caused so much suffering and damage. Some people have killed many a person, like you said. Some people are just terrible, with no morals, and have faced no repercussions for their horrible actions. Don't tell anyone I said this, but. Personally, some people deserve to die. That is my answer."

Dimitri takes a huge, shaking breath.

"But that doesn't meant that they should die," Jeralt continues. "Anyway, you can think that some people should die, but you should not act on those feelings." He parts his lips to say something else, but all words die on his lips. He does not know how to continue on this line of thought, so he tries to cut it off entirely.

"I see," Dimitri says, tone unreadable.

"I mean it," Jeralt scolds. "You shouldn't pass judgment so easily. Especially you. You are the future king."

Dimitri does not reply for an uncomfortable amount of time. "...I know," Dimitri quietly replies. "I'll do my best."

.

"Mmph. Claude why are you back." Byleth grumbles into his pillow.

A unexpected voice greets him. "Claude? Back? Don't tell me he's been coming into your room like this late at night."

"Father," Byleth greets, as he quickly sits up in bed with a small smile. Sothis groans, burrowing into the blanket.

Jeralt smiles as he approaches, and when he is close enough, he places a hand on Byleth's head. "Byleth. How was the trip? How are you feeling?"

Byleth rolls the words around his head for a moment. "I feel like scrambled eggs," he says, and Byleth swears that his head is still ringing.

His father bursts out laughing. "What, you want me to cook you some?"

Slowly Byleth shakes his head. "No. I feel like scrambled eggs. I was hit with a weird spell, and my head hurt for a bit."

Jeralt looks panicky, so Byleth hurries to change the subject. "Father, would you mind doing me a favor?"

.

Sothis sits on a stool idly spinning around as Jeralt cuts Byleth's hair. Small strands of verdant green fall to the floor of Byleth's bedroom. It is nearly dawn, and Sothis wants to crawl back into the sheets, but it is difficult to sleep when two other people are awake in the room with her.

She doesn't know what prompts her next words.

"When I was asleep," Sothis begins, still going around and around in circles, "there were paths stretched out from me. Lines of fate that were unseen. Futures that were never meant to be, because of the road that you have chosen."

"Hm?" Byleth says distantly. His eyes are closed. The pleasant sounds of his father simply cutting hair from his face are making him sleepy. Again.

Sothis begins to feel vaguely dizzy, so she plants her feet on the floor to stop herself. "There was one where... Hm. The details were fuzzy, but Edelgard was killed by Claude."

Byleth blinks his eyes open. "What?"

Sothis nods. "It's a reality that you would never see, Byleth. Something happened, and the Alliance fell. Claude was spared, but not before many people died. For some reason, no one in the Empire thought that people may want to retaliate against them. Claude quite literally walked up to Edelgard, drew an arrow, and shot true. Of course, he was subdued and executed later, but..."

"That does not sound like something Claude would do," Byleth says softly. A strand of hair falls onto his shoulder and his father brushes it away.

Sothis only raises an eyebrow. "Really? That boy can be quite brutal." Byleth shrugs his shoulders. "Besides. You hardly know the boy, Byleth."

Byleth concedes the point with a nod. He tries to imagine a Claude simply walking up to the Emperor and killing her, without batting an eye.

He cannot see it. Byleth wonders what the circumstances would have to be, for Claude to dirty his hands in such a way.

In all honesty, Byleth can picture realities in which the Empire had failed. There was no way the Alliance or the Kingdom would stay silent as their people were trampled on, their history erased from existence. There had to be a universe in which the soldiers did not follow a teenage girl, despite the fact that she was indeed their princess, into battle. 

There would be a universe, too, where Byleth would join hands with Edelgard.

What a dreadful future that would lead to.

Blood did not wash away blood. The murder of innocents did not necessarily lead to the future of others. And even though Byleth is aware that the church has likely many things to hide-

-killing everyone in their path would never lead to a bright future.

"Sothis?"

"Yes?"

Byleth stares down at his lap. "Have you seen a future, a path in which Dimitri, Claude, Edelgard and Rhea live?"

Silence.

It feel as if Sothis is watching him with an expression that is older than time.

"No," Sothis tells him. 

Byleth closes his eyes. "I can just cut a path that is solely my own, then."

"We're here too," Jeralt reminds him, and Byleth relaxes against his father's chest with a content sigh.

.

Byleth dips the spoon into the broth and lifts it to Dimitri's mouth wordlessly. The prince stares at the spoon. Byleth stares at Dimitri. It is a weird experience.

A thought occurs to Byleth. He has to say ah. "Ahhh," Byleth says, not moving the utensil out of fear that the hot soup will splash onto Dimitri's lap.

Dimitri locks eyes with Byleth and then leans forward ever so slightly to drink from the spoon. Byleth waits for the boy to swallow before he lifts another spoonful of soup to his mouth.

"Professor, not that I don't appreciate it, but I am fit for travel," Dimitri says, fists clenching in the fabric of his pants. "There is no need to coddle me like this."

"Ahhh," Byleth says.

Face red, Dimitri slowly parts his lips again for the soup.

"Good boy," Byleth says, and Dimitri promptly chokes. "Oh my. Is the soup that bad? Do not worry. I will not depart without you, since you are so determined to come. We leave in a few days.

"Professor, it's not bad!" Dimitri exclaims. "It's just.... just embarrassing."

"There is nothing embarrassing about doing your best to recover," Byleth replies softly, dipping the spoon back into the broth. "You are working very hard. Now. Ahhh."

Somehow Dimitri becomes even more red. The blush disappears under his clothes. "Professor, everyone is staring!"

They were sitting in the dining hall with the rest of the Blue Lions, as Byleth fed Dimitri. Byleth was not even aware of the eyes upon them until Dimitri pointed them out.

"Ahhh," Byleth repeats, unbothered.

"If you're embarrassed," Sylvain begins, his voice taking on a teasing tone, "I'll take your place! I wouldn't mind if the professor fed me. I would take anything he would put in my mouth."

Somehow, Dimitri chokes despite the fact that he did not have soup in his mouth. Sylvain yelps in pain as Ingrid kicks him under the table and Felix slaps the back of his head. 

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" Sylvain complains, leaning onto Felix's shoulder dramatically. Felix tries to shove him off, to no avail.

"But really," Ferdinand begins, waving his spoon around, soup flying off of the utensil, "if Dimitri and Edelgard were so affected by whatever that fog was, why weren't you and Claude?"

"Why, do you want him hurt?" Lysithea demands, as Ferdinand frantically shakes his head in disagreement.

"Claude was not unaffected," Byleth says simply, raising another spoonful to Dimitri's mouth. The prince goes cross eyed staring at the spoon. "Ahhh."

"A-ahhh," Dimitri murmurs, closing his eyes and letting Byleth spoon the soup into his mouth. His teeth awkwardly clink against the spoon.

"Oh, really?" Annette asks. "He looked more put together than me, and I wasn't even hit by that weird fog!"

"He was crying," Byleth replies, voice a little lower. "Ahhh. Not entirely unaffected. People like him are very good at concealing his feelings."

"Besides," a voice calls. Byleth turns around to see one of the mercenaries behind him, putting a firm hand on his shoulder. "Byleth is both mentally and physically strong!"

"What do you do if someone tries to hurt you, Byleth?" One mercenary calls.

Jeralt, appearing with the other mercenaries, watches Byleth to make sure he follows along. He looks rather eager. Byleth blinks at him. "Say it with me," Jeralt says.

"Beat the shit out of them," Byleth choruses, alongside his father and the mercenaries. "Emotionally or physically."

Sylvain bursts into laughter behind them, wiping a false tear from his eye. "Is that- is that seriously your motto?!"

Byleth looks down at his sword, then back up at his student. "It has worked well for me thus far. I do not beat the shit out of everyone, though. That would be mean. Only the ones who have promised bodily harm, and such. And I do not do it often."

Sylvain has his hands on his knees, wheezing with laughter. "I'm- I'm sorry, professor, but you- you saying 'beat the shit out of them' with your straight face is the funniest shit ever-"

"No cursing," Byleth scolds lightly. "And like I said, it is not a thing that I do often."

Byleth gets lost in his own thoughts. Didn't Claude say something to him that night that they all returned? Byleth does not really remember. All he knows is that lately, Claude has been going somewhere by himself.

Without a second thought, Byleth lifts another spoonful to Dimitri's mouth. "Ahhh."

.

On the day before they leave on the road once more, Indech appears in Byleth's classroom and sits in the back, arms folding across his chest.

Come to think of it, Byleth has barely seen him ever since they returned. And he only sees Sothis at night, for sleeping.

His hair is now cut short, little strands of hair framing his face. It just barely passes his chin, and the shade of green is more similar to Sothis' hair than Byleth's own. Indech tucks a longer strand behind his ear. Only now did Byleth realize that it has been pierced. Not many people pierced their ears, so Byleth is surprised at the gleam of purple decorating his ear.

"Do you need something?" Byleth asks.

Indech does not reply. Byleth shrugs and continues with his lesson.

The Blue Lions glance back at the sudden appearance, but turn back when Byleth makes a small noise.

The class ends, and like usual, Byleth asks if the Blue Lions have any questions about the material.

Indech curls his lip and smirks up at Byleth. "Are you capable of walking on your knees?" Indech spits.

Byleth blinks. He is sure that there is an innuendo in there that he does not understand, but Byleth does not address it. But judging by looks on his students' faces, he also means something unkind.

He wonders why Indech came in the classroom just to pick a fight.

"You..." Dimitri scowls, fists balling up. Dedue puts a hand on his shoulder, but even he looks a bit ticked off. Byleth wonders why.

There has been a shadow hanging over Dimitri's head lately. 

"You can't talk to the professor like that!" Ingrid snaps, pointing an accusing finger at the scoffing man. The Blue Lions look a bit upset. Perhaps Byleth should step in.

Byleth tilts his head to one side. "Even a baby knows how to crawl," he remarks, watching the smug expression on Indech's face become brighter, "but if you are so sure that I do not understand you, why don't you get on your knees and demonstrate?"

Indech's expression turns sour, chin wrinkling in indignation as he turns on one heel and stomps away. His nape is bright red. Byleth sighs and focuses back on his students, who are-

-who are all making embarrassed expressions.

Did Byleth say something wrong?

"Was I too harsh on that man just now?" Byleth asks, a little concerned that his students might think less of him for that.

"No," Dimitri declares, although his voice is hoarse and cracks on the edges. Despite themselves, the Blue Lions laugh brightly. Dimitri coughs into his fist to clear his throat. "No," he repeats, voice the slightest bit embarrassed now.

Byleth means to bring it up with Sothis, but he forgets to in favor of gazing upon his pillow's inviting nature.

.

On the morning that Byleth and the rest of the students depart once more, Sothis pulls on a white dress adorned with gossamer and makes Byleth stab her head with multiple accessories.

Sothis looks very, very annoyed as he places another golden headpiece into her hair. 

"Something's coming," Sothis says to him, darkly. "I don't have the power to know what exactly it is, but it is coming."

"Something bad?" Byleth asks, trying to fix one of the hairs that refuses to stay put. 

Sothis shakes her head and nearly shrieks when a golden flower falls out of her hair. Byleth hurries to place it back. "Why are you wearing all of this?" Byleth asks, voice quiet.

"For a good impression," Sothis says.

"I already love you," Byleth says, and Sothis swats at him, but she's grinning, so he counts it as a win. 

Sothis examines her expression in the mirror. "I'm going to announce that the ball will be a few weeks earlier," Sothis tells him, "and that I am inviting everyone, from every nation."

"Everyone?"

"Everyone," Sothis agrees. "The common folk, as well as the nobility. I want to see how their reaction will be like, at my invitation."

The goddess covers her smirk with a delicate hand. "Especially since that prime minister definitely has a grudge, now."

Byleth is very confused, but he trusts Sothis. "Do I have to wear something nice?" Byleth asks, stepping away from Sothis to pick up his supplies for the journey. 

"Yes, of course!" Sothis exclaims, "I'll be presenting you to the public, after all, as my champion."

"As your what?" Byleth asks, as someone barged through the door, practically knocking it off the hinges. He's surprised to see Ashe on the other side.

"Professor! Pro- professor! Please hurry and come quick!" Ashe exclaims. 

Byleth is out the door and tugging Sothis along with him even before Ashe can explain to him why. "What is it?"

Ashe stammers and trips over his words, as well as his own two feet, as he guides him to the entrance hall. "Don't let- don't let Lady Rhea, please," Ashe mumbles.

Byleth looks at the group of people standing at the steps leading to the academy, and does a double take when he sees what seemed to be the leader of their group.

Lonato spots Sothis and kneels, head bowing low. "My goddess," he greets. "I have a request of you."

Sothis smacks her forehead as Seiros appears next to her, eyes wide. She really does not want to deal with this right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MY GOD I CANT WAIT FOR NEXT CHAPTER GOSH ah and now the usual schedule is back on! thank you for your patience and support!
> 
> JESUS FUCK THANK GOD I HAVE AN EXCUSE TO SHOVE ROMANCE IN YAAAYAYYAYAYA IT'S BEEN TEN THOUSAND YEARS GET READY FOR THE BALL 
> 
> next time on godspeed! byleth desperately needs a hand! sothis throws hands with many people! imma give you the chapter name cause i thought it was cool. 'he who rends heaven!'
> 
> thanks for waiting so long guys y'all are too good to me! im kinda disappointed in this chapter but eh what can you do! next chapter will be better ;)
> 
> thank you so very much for reading ♡
> 
> byleth/dimitri B rank  
byleth/dedue B rank  
byleth/felix B rank  
byleth/annette B rank  
byleth/ingrid B rank  
byleth/sylvain B rank  
byleth/mercedes B rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt B rank  
byleth/ferdinand B rank  
byleth/lysithea B rank  
byleth/cyril C+ rank  
byleth/flayn B rank  
byleth/caspar B rank  
byleth/dorothea C+ rank
> 
> byleth/jeritza C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/sothis A rank  
byleth/claude C+ rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea C+ rank


	37. he who rends heaven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello you beautiful beautiful people! how are you? staying safe i hope ♡
> 
> brooooo the new banner for feh got me passing out got me swooning got me dying i fucking broke down when i saw my husband ike! im sososososo happy i got him before the 40 free summon, because then i could use it on lyon whhshshdh i actually was lucky enough to get everyone! i wasn't even gunning for julia nor corn at first but like e 
> 
> OKAY YALL I AM NOT SURE ABOUT THE FIGHT SCENE IN THIS CHAPTER BUT YA KNOW IM NEVER SURE ABOUT FIGHT SCENES SHEESH

"Shall I use a pulse," Byleth asks, calmer than he feels, as he watches Rhea's face twist into rage at the sight of a single kneeling man. 

It has been a very long time since Byleth had laid eyes upon this man. For what reason did he come to the academy? Was he seeking a swift death? Or...

Byleth glances over to Sothis. As usual, she is unreadable, her face only revealing the slightest bit of her displeasure. It seems as if she does not know what to do with his sudden appearance, as well.

Lonato was a man of which Byleth did not understand his motives. He supposes that the love for his son was one of them, and yet how could he hope to topple the church as he was?

He knows that the Western Church had something to do with it. 

Did he expect Sothis to take revenge for him? Were they about to be sent on a quest to eliminate that church? Or was he asking for Rhea's head? Maybe something more sinister lay in the man's plot. Maybe nothing at all, but a pure and simple desire for revenge.

It was not as if Byleth did not understand that.

Well. It wasn't as if Sothis would allow her to be harmed. After all, she was her daughter.

"No, no," Sothis says quietly, gauging the reactions of the people around her. Seiros' steps were practically turning into stomps, while Seteth and a few knights followed, less wary. That Lonato man still knelt on the ground, with his followers kneeling behind him, as Ashe made soft, sputtering noises. "You'll need all the pulses you are able to utilize for the day. Who knows what will happen? If Macuil is as volatile as Indech..."

Sothis trails off, and suddenly draws a circle in the air with her finger and Byleth watches as Rhea and Lonato stop moving. The rise and fall of their chests have halted, and Rhea's quick footsteps have frozen midair. Frantically, Byleth turns to Sothis, not sure if they are breathing.

"Sothis, what just happened?" Byleth demands. Ashe looks rather distraught, eyes flitting to and fro, not focusing on one single person. His eyes fall on Byleth, and they seem to water.

"It's alright," Sothis says, tone softer now. "I only stopped time for a moment. I think it will be annoying if they started fighting before you all left, so."

Ashe blinks rapidly. "You really are the goddess," he states, sounding a bit star struck.

Sothis opens her mouth to say something that was likely scathing, so Byleth hurries to cut into the conversation.

"You can freeze time, too?" Byleth asks, curious as his eyes drove over Lonato and his stilled troops as well as Rhea's furious face, frozen in its expression.

Sothis tosses her hair over one shoulder, almost proud. "Yeah, well. This is kind of different. See, rather than freezing time, I am freezing a moment, if that makes sense. Time stops for that moment alone, while everything continues on. For example, in this state, I am able to control the fluctuations of time. I could turn Seiros into a child, or I could return Lonato even older than he is right now. I have used this technique to make plants grow faster, and for nature to speed up its course."

"Eh?"

Sothis rolls her eyes, but still takes the time to explain. "Everything has a different state depending on the time it exists in. For example, let's say I couldn't break though a wooden wall. If I switched the time it existed in to a time way in the future, it would be rotten and would snap under the poke of a finger."

"You cannot break a wooden wall?" Byleth asks.

"Do shut up," Sothis says. Her face softens as she focuses back on Ashe. Byleth always knew that she had a secret soft spot for his students.

"I do not," Sothis snaps, and Byleth realizes that he always forgets that she is able to read his thoughts. "Young Ashe. Round up the Blue Lions for departure. As I am now, I cannot hold them for too long."

Ashe hesitates for a second, scratching at his cheek with a slow finger. "I won't allow any harm to come to this Lonato person," she responds, to his unsaid question hanging in the air around them.

All of the stars suddenly return to Ashe's eyes. Even Sothis looks stricken by his dreamy, almost worshipful, expression. "Yes, miss goddess!"

Ashe runs off, a skip in his step.

Byleth mouths the words 'miss goddess' at Sothis and she makes a rude gesture with her hands at him. 

"At least that brat of yours isn't calling me 'benevolent goddess' or something as equally odd," Sothis murmurs, tapping her bare foot against the ground. Byleth has long given up trying to get her to wear proper shoes. She makes a dismissive gesture at Byleth with a frown. "Now, shoo shoo! Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"I'll go get the other students," Byleth says, and strides off, but not without a second glance at the frozen figures surrounding Sothis.

Stopping time was too cool.

It makes some sense. After all, if Sothis could control time, why couldn't she stop time, for a moment? Why couldn't she affect the flow of time? She was the goddess after all. Now, what Byleth was genuinely curious about was whether or not he had that power, too. 

Then again, the pulses were only gifted to him. But recently, Byleth has been feeling a bit stronger. Perhaps it was the sudden realization that he could command living beings, and Sothis did not explicitly tell him that he was now able to. 

Byleth was excited to test his own theory out.

.

"We are departing early," Byleth calls down the halls, knocking on doors and raising his voice. He had taken the time to say his goodbyes to his father earlier, so he drifts down the hall quickly.

"Ehhh????" Hilda demands, peeking her head out from her room. She looks like she had just woken up. "Professor, you are such a slave driver!"

"Please get ready to depart," Byleth repeats, as she whines and runs lazy fingers through long pink hair. 

Byleth nods at her before moving on to the other rooms.

The other students are disgruntled and perhaps even confused, but they work faster than Hilda does and scurry into their rooms with light footsteps.

Byleth does a very brief headcount of the students. Then another. Sighing, he realizes who is missing and reluctantly brings himself to Claude's door.

"Claude?" Byleth calls out, while simultaneously knocking on his door. "Claude, we are to be leaving a little bit earlier than usual."

No answer.

Mentally Byleth prepares himself for whatever he might see in Claude's room, and pushes the door open. 

Sitting on the rug is Claude, cross legged and eyed. Around him is a circle of open books and scattered papers, haphazardly stacked upon each other and clearly worn. Notes of indecipherable writing is scrawled upon spare pieces of paper, alongside a few diagrams in thick, messy ink.

If Byleth leans in he can see little drawings too, in the corners of the pages. But there is something odd about one paper.

In the middle of a page with more arrows than blank space was a green haired figure with a sword. Byleth narrows his eyes. Was that meant to be him?

Very suddenly, Claude finally realizes that Byleth is in his room, and his eyes look down to see what Byleth was staring at. 

Byleth is only able to read a few of the words written above the thin arrows before Claude hastily hides the page under a few sheets.

_Archbishop. Saints. Church. Goddess._

_Flame Emperor and-_

"Professor!" Claude calls out, looking as if he hadn't slept, showered, or even eaten in days. "Wow, you're here! Here here! Did you come to talk about what I told you!?"

Byleth blinks at him and leaves the room, hearing the figure inside scramble and slip over some paper. "Professor! Come back!"

"We're leaving now," Byleth informs him, stepping back into Claude's room. "But you do not have to come. You look very tired."

He averts his eyes when Claude hastily changes into proper gear, listening to him shove books and arrows into a bag. "No no," Claude says, flitting around the room like a fussy bee and forcing vulneraries into a pocket. "You can't leave for Sreng without me! I've always wanted to confirm the legend of whether or not saint Macuil is there!"

Byleth sighs through his nose, but waits patiently as Claude braids a strand of his hair. When Claude is finished preparing, he runs up to Byleth and raises a hand with a smug grin.

"Record time," Claude beams.

Turning on one heel, Byleth leaves the room.

"Hey, professor! Don't I deserve a high five?!"

.

The reaction of all of the students is remarkably similar when they see Rhea, her soldiers, and Lonato and his own soldiers frozen at the doors to the entrance hall.

"Isn't that-"

"Lord Lonato?"

"Oh man, why does the Archbishop look so pissed?"

"Well, duh she's pissed. Wouldn't you be if someone-"

Sothis gives them all a look. "You know, they're both aware of their surroundings still?"

That shuts the students up. 

"Sothis, do not joke with them," Byleth says, twisting his ring around his finger.

"I'm not joking," Sothis says, around a bite of an orange slice. Byleth wonders where she had procured it. Perhaps she bullied a soldier into getting it for her. "Depending on how I'm feeling, those under this spell are able to be absolutely aware of the changing times around them or not at all."

"That's scary," Claude says, and although his tone is joking and pleasant his eyes are not. 

Sothis absolutely does not care, or so it seems. She peels away another slice of orange from the fruit and shrugs. "Well, it's not as if I use it to torture people."

"Are you really the goddess?" Claude asks, cheery, as Sothis tosses the orange slice over to Byleth. He catches it mid air and then looks at Claude.

"Here you go," Byleth says simply. 

"Ah- Thanks?" It comes out as a question.

Byleth hums softly in response. "It does not seem as if you have been eating properly."

Claude bats his eyes at Byleth. "You're so sweet," he says, voice pitched higher. 

A slice of orange smacks Claude in the forehead. It makes a tiny sound as it connects and then falls inelegantly to the ground. Claude and Byleth both turn to the goddess.

"Don't play around," she snaps.

Before Claude can say anything else, the rest of the students appear, yawning and sighing. The mercenaries are on their heels. One of them breaks away from the group and runs over to Byleth with a smile.

"I brought them!" Ashe says, smile wide.

Byleth pats the boy on the head and somehow his grin becomes brighter. 

"Finally," Sothis groans, and snaps her fingers. Flayn and Seteth stumble out of their frozen poses, and she shoots them an apologetic glance. "Sorry about that."

"It's alright," Seteth says, almost breathlessly. He stares down at his hands. "Pardon me for asking, but is your power-"

"Anyway," Sothis cuts in, whirling around from his son to look at the students. "I think it will be a faster journey to Sreng if you teleport to Remire village and head down the other path leading out."

"Um, pardon me," Dimitri says, voice gruff. "You won't hurt Lord Lonato, will you?"

Sothis gives him a look. "Why would I do that?"

He fidgets a little when Ashe speaks up. "It's alright, prince Dimitri! I trust her!"

Byleth looks over to Sothis. She looks to be contemplating on her words, as if a phrase was dancing on her tongue, just waiting to be spoken.

"I'm not going to get into specifics," Sothis adds, taking a sudden interest in her nails. "However, when we first faced Lord Lonato, I was able to witness it all firsthand thanks to Byleth. Do you know why he decided to spare the man? Obviously, it is because of you brats. Therefore, it would be a waste to kill him like this, especially since Byleth-"

"Ah," Byleth cuts in. The Blue Lions are all looking at Byleth with expressions that are similar to Ashe's own. "Sothis, is that really alright?"

The goddess flicks her hair over one shoulder with a haughty expression. "The details don't matter now. Be on your way, before I regret it!"

"Oh," Byleth says. "Alright. Be safe, Sothis."

She grants him a softer smile. "And you."

.

As soon as they step out of the crack between dimensions, Byleth is immediately bombarded with questions from the students.

"What was that?!"

"Professor, what's your relationship with the goddess?!"

"Professor, professor! You really spared Lord Lonato? I thought that-"

"What was he even doing there?"

Byleth looks at all of them. "These are questions better saved for the road," Byleth states, blank as ever. He gestures at their surroundings. "Not in Remire's bakery."

So they depart reluctantly, Byleth paying for some sweet rolls and meat buns for their adventure before leaving. Irene slips him a few cookies and demands that he taste one before he leaves. She tells him that he is the type to let other eat while he stands by the wayside, and so she does not back off until Byleth takes a bite of the cookie. It is delicious. He is surprised why she does not ask about the sudden tear in existence that Byleth had just created.

The dirt path seems brighter, more inviting, under a morning sun.

Claude opens his mouth and Byleth shakes his head. "Whatever you want to ask," Byleth says, "I have a feeling I will not be able to answer."

Lysithea points an accusing finger at Byleth, and he stares down at her. "Is that why you like dragons?!"

Byleth takes a moment. "I feel as if we are on different pages," he tells her seriously.

"Well," Lysithea says. "You have an unhealthy obsession with dragons that would have gotten you killed! So I am assuming that you met the goddess in dragon form on your journeys, brought her back to the academy, and that's why you sleep together!"

Byleth parts his lips to say that he isn't following her logic but the outburst of the students cuts him off. 

"WHAAAT?!"

He turns to all of them, but focuses on the Blue Lions. "I thought you knew this," Byleth says. 

Annette's cheeks have taken on an indignant flush. "But, but! Professor!"

"Sleeping in the same bed as someone else is not scandalous," Byleth says, and his oblivious nature, apparent to all but himself, makes everyone relax. "But that is not why I like dragons. The reason why the goddess and I are so close-"

_ **Byleth, DO NOT.** _

"-is something that I am unable to tell you." 

Well, it was not as if Byleth did not understand. In fact, he still was relatively confused on the matter of Sothis living in his head.

Claude deflates, slumping over slightly. "Then why do you like dragons so much?"

"Because dragons are cool," Byleth tells Claude, matter of factly. "Some are magical and can breathe fire or summon great winds. They can fly, too. They're also rather deadly."

"And you find that adorable?" Claude asks.

"Of course," Byleth replies.

Claude snorts. "You know, humans can do all of that with a couple of spells."

Byleth nods his head. He is not unaware. In fact, he is able to do all of that. "Yes, and what is your point? The value of creatures is not determined by what they are capable of."

"You just said that you like dragons 'cause they're cool and can breathe fire, professor!" Claude remarks.

"My love is not that cheap," Byleth says.

"Oh?" Sylvain says, batting his eyes. Byleth ignores looking in his general direction. 

"The goddess is my friend," Byleth adds softly. He looks at the Blue Lions. "I would like it if you all got along."

"It would be difficult to get along with something that isn't human," Edelgard pipes up. "The goddess is far from our reach."

Byleth twitches.

"But the professor has brought her down to earth," Dimitri cuts in.

"That reminds me," Ferdinand says. "Didn't you tell us before that the goddess lived in your head? So that was not a joke?"

"I guess so," Byleth replies, absentmindedly. "Have any of you spoken with her before?"

"I have," Dimitri says, and Dedue nods behind him, quiet. 

Byleth nods his head. "Oh, yes. I do remember Sothis told me that before. Anyone else?"

"Me," Sylvain says, unexpectedly.

Byleth and all of the Blue Lions whirl on the boy. "When did this happen, Sylvain? And what were you talking about?"

"Ah, when we got back from the lake," Sylvain says, casually. Too casually. "You know, the goddess wanders the halls like a ghost in the night, when you're asleep. So we had a little conversation."

Felix has already rolled his eyes up to the high heavens. "Don't tell me that you hit on the actual goddess of Fódlan," he says, with a tone that actually expects him to have done just that. 

Sylvain lifts a finger to his mouth. "I never kiss and tell," he says.

_ **He is such a liar.** _

Byleth's eyes widen. 

"Professor?" Ingrid asks him, noticing his grim expression. "What's up?"

"Sothis says you're a liar," Byleth says, and then immediately wishes that he could swallow his tongue.

"You can communicate with her in your mind?!"

Byleth resigns himself to a long, long road trip.

.

Sothis begrudgingly sends him a snippet of a memory that is not his own. 

He can feel the waves of it lap along his mind and leave imprints in its wake.

_"You are the goddess, right?" Sylvain asks. "Would you hear out my prayer, oh holy-"_

_Sothis rolls her eyes. "You're one of Byleth's little brats. No need to be so formal."_

Byleth stares into the memory, eyes unseeing.

_"Then, I'll be a bit rude," Sylvain says, bluntly. "Get rid of the crest that you gave me."_

_Sylvain puts a finger to his chin, and then suddenly grins, despite the fact that his expression is still radiating something dark. Something wholly dangerous. "Please," he says, even though it sounds more like a demand rather than a prayer. "I'm only asking since the professor seems to trust you so much. And although I shouldn't trust you because of that- really, he's softer than he looks, I'm desperate. I never asked for this shit. Take it away."_

Byleth does not know what to think.

_Sothis is unphased. "Crest, huh? I don't know what the Archbishop has been feeding you, but I didn't actually create them. Well. Directly, anyway."_

_"What are you-"_

Someone steps into his peripheral. "Professor?" It's Sylvain. His smile is much more kind than the one he had been granting to Sothis. Something about it sent chills down his spine. "Is everything alright?"

_I didn't actually-_

Byleth does not know what to think about this sudden information, so he pushes it to the back of his mind and doesn't think about it at all.

"Yes," Byleth says, and wonders if Sylvain knows when he lies.

.

The area the Wind Caller is meant to reside in is relatively flat, covered in dusky sand and decorated with jagged rock.

It is windy, although that shouldn't be surprising. Byleth holds a hand up to his face and blinks around the whip of sand flying around his face like a particularly annoying bug.

They miraculously find what seems like an inn, in the middle of absolutely nowhere. Only as they approach does Byleth and the rest of the ensemble see little buildings dotting the sand, chipped wood and dark stone. A tiny little town town. The residents couldn't have been more than a couple dozen. Byleth sees eyes peer out at them through thin cracks of wood. 

No living being is outside in the dark of the night. It's cold enough to make even the Blue Lions shudder. 

Byleth knocks on the door to the biggest building, presumably, an inn or a tavern. A young boy opens the door, looks over the group, and smiles widely at them. 

It is apparently his family's inn. He wakes up his older brother, asleep at a table, and wrangles them all into rooms that they have to share.

The students stay up a little later for a game involving stones or something of the kind before sleep takes them.

Byleth spends the night downstairs and feels the wind rattle the building. The eldest brother keeps silent company with him, whittling away at a block of dark wood.

On one of the tables lay a statue of a creature, crudely decorated and winged, jaw open as if roaring.

_The Wind Caller._

Byleth closes his eyes and wonders if they know that Byleth is here.

.

Bright and early the next morning, they seem to stumble upon the Wind Caller by pure accident.

One moment they are stepping over flat stones and brushing dirt from their face, the next- 

A massive creature is there, winged and feathery, with an enormous beak and horns. Their eyes do not stray from the students' general direction. The ruins laid out about them spill into a mouth of flat ground that seems to cut the sand from the area. The whole area is a shade of reddish brown and seems to glow under the dawn of an early morning.

The slightest gasp from Flayn confirms his thoughts. That must be the Wind Caller.

"That is so cool," Byleth says, and as soon as his lips move, an arrow is shot at his feet. Byleth doesn't know if it was intentional or not, but the students all make sounds of dismay. Dimitri actually takes Byleth by shoulder and moves him, stepping in front as if to shield him. "I'm alright."

Dimitri does not move, but the rest of the Blue Lions do, standing in front of Byleth with their weapons at the ready. Byleth sighs. He does not need to be protected.

Claude squints into the distance. "Look. I bet those are the watchmen of the ruins and that they've been ordered to keep out intruders. And that big beast... that must be the Wind Caller!"

"Thieves..." The Wind Caller muses. "Only by defeating me can you claim the secret treasure!"

"We did not come for a treasure," Dimitri calls, lance being gripped tightly in one hand. "The goddess wishes to speak with you."

The Wind Caller ever so slightly tilts his head to the side before making a gruff sound that sounds like a laugh. "Why would the goddess answer to the call with the likes of you? The stench of your blood seems to hang like fog in the air. You are our enemy. You must be the Ten Elites' descendants, bold and as foolish as you are. Now you lie, and approach me once more. Come to your death quietly!"

"Well," Byleth calls, and the Blue Lions whirl on him.

"We won't let you get hurt again," Mercedes says, determined.

The thought is very kind of them, but Byleth would love to try something out. 

Just then, another figure appears on the horizon a nondescript thief who startles at the sight of them. "Huh? Who are you? I'm just here for a bit of treasure! Don't attack me!"

Claude groans at the sight of them. "Someone got here already? It's practically dawn! Probably looters, though. But we can't get them involved with whatever your goddess is planning, right?"

"I'm not religious in the slightest."

Byleth feels a pull to his lips and looks the thief up and down. Perfect. He twirls his finger in the air and the man freezes in place, resembling more of a statue than an actual living human being.

His goons appear at his side, shocked at the sight of him, and then stop in their tracks too. Claude looks at Byleth with an evaluating expression. "No way," he says, a little breathless.

"I'm surprised too," Byleth says. A vicious grin threatens to rise upon his face. 

The Wind Caller makes a sound that seems to reverberate upon the earth. "Ah, I didn't notice you. You were surrounded by those traitors' scents, so it took me awhile to see you. You have the stink of Sothis upon you? It seems as if you possess a fraction of her power. Let me test your skills myself."

Byleth watches as the Wind Caller takes to the skies, blocking out the sun for a moment before swooping down right at him. 

"Roll!" Byleth calls, dodging out of the way as the Wind Caller drops to the ground and roars, making Byleth's head spin incessantly. Cracks spill out from under their talons, shaking the floor and making the students screech in terror as some fall. Broken stones fly up from the ground and kick up dust and sand and dirt, flying everywhere.

"I wouldn't mind killing some of the disgusting men before I get to you," the Wind Caller says, voice still raspy from the roar. They lean forward and snap at Dimitri, but he leaps back out of the way with ease. His cape, however, is taken suddenly by a worm like beast emerging from the cracks in the sand and in the stone. Dedue hurries to his side and practically tears the fabric from his shoulders, ducking when he hears Linhardt behind him. A wind spell forms under his fingertips and cracks against the worm's amorphous body, sending it to the ground.

Some of the stones have become jagged, and seem to stand upright with the broken ground as its support. Byleth climbs atop one of them and uses it to leap onto the Wind Caller, briefly frowning as their shield appears. He brings the sword down and listens to the satisfying scrape of it tear a crooked line into the shield, and part of it shatters. 

Byleth lands, still wobbly, onto the ground with a sigh.

From behind him, Edelgard appears, weaving in between talons and slicing at the shield with her axe, blinking dust from her eye as it is kicked up around her. Her axe is a blur around her. Dimitri takes up her lead and takes the distraction to toss a javelin at the shield as well- it breaks under contact, but so does that part of the shield.

The Wind Caller roars and swipes wildly, but instead of sharp talons reaching out to attack, the wind itself is whipped up into blades, cutting up Byleth's gloves and a part of his cheek.

"With me!" Byleth calls, and the mercenaries follow close behind him, charging at one of the Wind Caller's legs, making them roar and tumble to the ground.

If all of the students attack, they could probably finish it right now-

"Professor!" Annette calls, wiping sweat from her forehead. "Whatever you did to stop those thieves stopped working! They began to move again! Some of them are fleeing, but others are still approaching!"

"And?!" Byleth shouts, just enough to be heard over the violent thread of wind hanging in the air. He helps Caspar take down another worm with a swing of his sword before looking at Annette again.

"Felix went after them!" Annette calls.

Byleth's eyebrows furrow. "You follow him! Caspar, Ingrid, Dorothea, you too!"

The students called back away from the Wind Caller and the beasts that emerge from the earth and run after Felix's back. 

"You cannot flee," the Wind Caller states, and flies at them, wings beating fast and hard enough to knock Byleth off of his feet briefly, stumbling to the floor by a gust of wind. The others are not so lucky, and tumble to the floor like himself.

The glint of several arrows shine in the light, and the Wind Caller's flight is halted ever so slightly, but that's enough time for Byleth to stand again and whip a spell at their head.

The Wind Caller goes down, sparks of magic still leaping around in Byleth's palms. Byleth risks a moment to look at where the arrows had come from and sees Claude, Ashe, and Leonie there, docking more arrows. 

Ashe is using the bow that Byleth had gifted him.

Seteth takes this time now, in the lull of battle, to approach the Wind Caller. "Stop this, please! We only wish to talk!"

"Are these your companions?" The Wind Caller replies.

Seteth nods quietly. "They are indeed. I should tell you that Sothis has answered our summons."

The Wind Caller turns his head. "How many times have I heard that? Now listen here, Cichol. Your allies are those filthy creatures! I will not assist you. I have lived apart from the world of man, which disgusts me so. These rumors of her returns disgust me, as well."

"You only need look upon that man to realize the truth," Seteth says, nodding in Byleth's direction.

The Wind Caller looks upon Byleth, solemnly. "Is that the Vessel?" They ask, and a panicky look appears on Seteth's face. 

"Macuil-"

It is far too late for any of his words. The Wind Caller has already taken to the skies once more, soaring in Byleth's direction. Byleth frowns and readies his sword, adjusting his grip.

He notices a bit too late that the Wind Caller's target is not himself. 

"I have been observing you," the Wind Caller states. "You seem to care more about these mortals around you rather than yourself."

Byleth breaks off into a run as the Wind Caller descend upon Claude, blanketed in sharp threads of wind to prevent his escape. "Let me see if I am able to bring her out of you, Vessel."

He watches as the Wind Caller opens their beak, and-

Byleth feels a rush of dizziness fall over him. One.

.

"My goddess," Lonato says, head bowing low to the ground. Sothis thinks that his head is actually touching the dirt now. He is shaking, but with rage or another emotion, Sothis cannot yet tell. "Please bestow a punishment upon the ones who took my son from me!"

"Benevolent One," Seiros says, and although her face is still pleasant, her eyes and lips are curved in fury. "He was the one to provoke the church prior to this. They were the ones being blasphemous, please unleash your wrath upon them!"

Sothis stares down at the man bowing. Then, she tilts her head ever so slightly to look at her daughter. "Blasphemous for me or for you?"

The goddess tunes out of the conversation as Seiros sputters. Honestly, it was her daughter in the wrong here. 

They're talking, and talking, and talking. Sothis is unamused. She wonders what this Lonato person is willing to accomplish-

A thought occurs to her, and she blinks herself out of her self imposed stupor.

"What would you like me to do?" Sothis asks.

That gets Lonato to raise his head. "My goddess?"

Sothis stands from her chair and straightens her shoulders. Wind pushes strands of hair from her dress. Distantly, she realizes that she is thrumming with power. "I am asking you. What would you like me to do? I will not kill her. I will not maim her. What would you like me to do to her? Do you want revenge? Will you be sated after you seize it?"

Seiros opens her mouth. Sothis turns and levels a glare at her. "You have done quite enough."

Lonato's fist, trembling in the dirt, stops shaking abruptly. "I want the Archbishop stripped of her power," Lonato says, and the murmur of his words seem to shake the world around them. 

"Bold of you," Sothis says sweetly.

Even the air seems to take on a dangerous quality. She cannot say that she isn't pleased at the sudden meekness of those around her.

Sothis steps forward and-

leans over and coughs into her hand. Her eyes go wide as she stares down into her palm.

The goddess had gagged up something as dark as night. 

"Byleth," she hisses, squeezing her hand shut. "Byleth, what's happened?!"

When she focuses on his thoughts, only a searing pain answers her. Sothis' vision goes white for a moment, and she clenches at her dress, staining the fabric. 

"Excuse me for a moment," Sothis says, and literally runs off to Byleth's room, ignoring the calls at her back. As soon as she enters, she slams the door with all of the strength she can gather and collapses to the floor, heaving and shaking at the sudden shared pain.

Stars fly into her vision. "Byleth," she hisses. "Byleth, call upon me. Byleth, are you listening?! Byleth!"

Somehow, Byleth had become gravely injured _and_ had somehow tapped into her power, siphoning it from her body unknowingly. But Sothis couldn't think about that, now. What mattered was Byleth's safety.

It was always Byleth's safety, above her own.

.

The Wind Caller names him 'Vessel.'

Hurrying to Claude's side, he pushes the boy to the ground and nearly screams in pain as he feels his left arm being literally torn from his socket by the Wind Caller's sharp beak. It hurts. It hurts like hell. But it will not last long.

Byleth does not turn to look and see where it fell, but he looks at Claude instead. "Are you alright," he asks.

Claude has become pale, trembling as he looks up at Byleth from his spot on the ground. "Professor- Teach- I should be asking you t-that!"

"I'm alright," Byleth says, even as his vision becomes white when he even so much as moves. When he breathes, it hurts. It's a horrible feeling. Everything brings him pain. "I promise that this will not last."

He can hear screams from behind him.

Two. Byleth tackles Claude to the ground and they both hit the ground, Byleth's forehead knocking painfully against Claude's chin while the back of Claude's hand collides with the ground with a full thud.

The Wind Caller swoops past them, and Byleth does not allow himself a second to relax. He is confused when the Wind Caller continues on their path, and then realizes that they're now aiming for Felix, off in the distance-

Three. Byleth allows the pulse to take him to a moment father back. Dimitri is at his back when the Wind Caller is calling Byleth a vessel, or something along those lines. He no longer knows. He takes up a strong fighting position without being told and Byleth is proud. 

Byleth dashes into the the Wind Caller's path towards Claude and slices at a wing, but not before they swipe their talons at Byleth and he hits the ground.

He cannot move. 

No matter how much he wills himself to, he cannot even move his fingers. 

Byleth glances up to see Dimitri standing over the Wind Caller, whose wing was cut off by Byleth. He's stabbing his lance into the Wind Caller's head, over and over and over and over and over.

Five. Byleth loses an arm again, and watches Dimitri hurl a lance that was not even meant for throwing into the Wind Caller's eye. They go down, wailing and roaring and sounding distinctly human as they scream. The wind whips around at them violently, but Dimitri is not moved.

"**How dare you,**" Dimitri says, and Byleth can only watch with an abstract sort of horror. His voice is remarkably calm for someone that was covered in blood. "**You cannot hurt that person. Do you hear me? Never that person.**"

Seven. Byleth slices across the wing as they fly past again, but it's not enough to stop the path of their flight. He watches Annette push Felix out of the way and can no longer watch anymore.

Nine. Ashe is the one to save Claude, but at a price Byleth is not willing to pay. Not ever.

Ten. Byleth can say that he is used to the excruciating pain, now. He is kind of tired of losing an arm. He cannot seem to get the timing right. He watches Dimitri walk up to the Wind Caller and stabs into whatever he can reach, watches a pulpy mess of blood and gore dye the sand a deeper shade of red. Someone tries to scream at Dimitri that the Wind Caller is already dead. 

The prince cannot seem to hear. What used to be a majestic sort of creature now lies in a bloody heap at Dimitri's feet.

Dimitri calls out to Byleth and presents the gory figure on the floor with a smile stained with blood. "Professor, no one will ever hurt you again!"

Byleth is sick to his stomach. He knows that his pulses are running out, and yet he braves that pulsing headache once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dun dun dun
> 
> OKAY NOT TO ALARM YOU BUT I MAY OR MAY NOT UPDATE NEXT WEEK. im working on two fics, a chrobin one for a dear friend, as well as an ikesoren fic that's absofuckinglutely based off of berserk ike in heroes touching the medallion YEAH I MAY NOT EVER ACTUALLY FINISH THOSE FICS YEAH IT'S BEEN LIKE SEVEN YEARS SINCE I PLAYED TELLIUS BUT WHATEVER IM STILL IN LOVE WITH IKE AND SOREN IT'S FINE
> 
> but i probs still will don't worry!
> 
> next time on godspeed: literally Everyone but byleth is pissed as hell. byleth tries (and fails) to calm people down. sothis plays a game intending to win. people plot
> 
> thank you so very much for reading ♡
> 
> byleth/dimitri B rank  
byleth/dedue B rank  
byleth/felix B rank  
byleth/annette B rank  
byleth/ingrid B rank  
byleth/sylvain B rank  
byleth/mercedes B rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt B rank  
byleth/ferdinand B rank  
byleth/lysithea B rank  
byleth/cyril C+ rank  
byleth/flayn B rank  
byleth/caspar B rank  
byleth/dorothea C+ rank
> 
> byleth/jeritza C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/sothis A rank  
byleth/claude C+ rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea C+ rank


	38. the vessel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello you lovely people! hopefully yall are staying safe!
> 
> OKAY IM SO DONE WITH MYSELF HDGDGDHDHHD GOD I DIDN'T FINISH EITHER ONE SHOT GODDAMMIT 
> 
> so im not uploading godspeed next week, to focus on the ikesoren oneshot, and the chrobin oneshot, both of which i may never finish! fuck! i was replaying por (ive got a physical copy, one of my most valued possessions) and awakening to get ahold of their characters and guess who got distracted like a dumbass :)
> 
> ANYWAY IT'S OKAY IT'S OKAY I HAVE ABOUT 3000 WORDS FOR THE SELF INDULGENT IKESOREN ONE WE MOVING ALONG
> 
> your reactions to the last chapter were so funny vdgshhdgdhhdhdh

The goddess pushes herself off of the ground and wipes her palms there. She makes a mental note to erase the stain of whatever she had just coughed up later, but for now, her goal is to simply sit on the bed.

"Byleth, you really... are going to owe me so many fish sandwiches," Sothis trails off, cursing and wincing at the pain. Occasionally, it passed through her chest, but most of the time it was a searing, coursing pain setting fire to her arm and pressing needles to the skin. "Oh, curses. Curse everything. Why did I create mortal bodies and their fleshy, fragile, little nerves. What a bother. I should not have bothered. Curses!"

If she talks aloud she can pretend Byleth is listening, silent but present, serene in his attentiveness.

It hurts. It hurts like nothing before. This mortal body, compared to Sothis' past form, was so much weaker, and it really did show. In the past, these sorts of things would have been akin to a bug bite, at most. Flesh wounds were irrelevant for Sothis in particular, who could regrow limbs with a look and recreate hearts in the blink of an eye.

"Byleth, you absolute- moron, I swear, if you're doing something stupidly moronic," she hisses, furious not at him but at herself for not at least sending his father with him. Another thought occurs to her. If he had brought his father, and his father got hurt, it would probably be worse. "Stupid foolish mortals and their dumb feelings."

Pain was something that belonged to mortals, crafted under the whims of the people. The ability to be hurt was something entirely unknown to Sothis. 

Sothis wonders if this was what it felt for everyone. Pain, that is. Did Byleth get his arm cut off? Perhaps it was literally pulled from his socket, from his body? Maybe it was bitten off. 

Sothis shakes the terrifying thoughts away.

The goddess had not even felt pain when she had been killed. Granted, she was adrift in slumber, yet...

For a very, very long time, when she finally regained lucidity in Byleth's subconscious, Sothis did not dare sleep.

But that was not the point. 

With great effort, Sothis stumbles over to the bed, clutching at her arm with a furious expression. "I cannot believe that we've merged this much," Sothis growls, frustrated and yet refusing to think further on the situation. "It's far too soon..."

The goddess collapses onto the bed and breathes heavily there for a moment before blinking tears of pain from her eyes and forcing herself to sit upright. "Right," Sothis says, absentmindedly. "Let's get started, before Seiros comes and yells at me."

There was something up with her daughter, anyway. Something that Sothis did not understand the brevity of, just yet. Seiros was a grown woman now, and yet there was an immaturity that she possessed when she gazed upon her mother.

In fact, there was something off about all of her children. Perhaps not Cichol, for he had found a haven in his daughter. But Indech, her shy son, had become somewhat unpredictable, changing so frequently and undergoing constant mood swings in mere seconds. Sothis was a bit worried about Macuil, as well. Who knows how time had changed her children?

Sothis stabs a hand into her shadow, and she grips onto it, feeling it writhe under her fingers and nail beds, and _yanks-_

.

Byleth does not sigh, but it is a near thing.

"You're not hurt, are you?" Byleth asks, standing over a distraught looking Claude. He wonders how many times he has seen this exact scenario. Claude, shaking violently, almost in tears, while Byleth stood above him, blood dripping from his arm. Rather, lack of an arm.

Byleth had more pulses than he possessed the last time he used several in quick succession. The only reason he knows is simple- when Byleth has little to no pulses, he has to fight not to black out or collapse to the floor like jelly. 

Now, even with his arm missing, _again,_ he can still stand to bear the excruciating pain. Byleth wonders if he is just getting used to the pain. Maybe he should figure out the number of pulses that he actually has when he returns.

"T-teach," Claude sputters, and there's a new splash of blood across his nose. "Professor- are you- _why,_ I don't-"

"Shh," Byleth says, distantly. He's tried several times to talk to Sothis and ask if her son had any weaknesses, but not only was that a weird conversation topic, it was also hard to focus on anything else but the horrible, unending ringing in his ears. Like the bells at the academy and the cathedral, but if Byleth had a resounding headache and was also standing right next to them. "This will pass, Claude. Don't worry."

"How can I not worry!?" Claude demands, a mix of fear and swift anger. 

"Shh," Byleth says, and counts the seconds. One, two.

The Wind Caller flies overhead on 'three' and Byleth uses his other hand to flick his wrist and send the blade of the Sword of the Creator into the air, wrapping the end of it around one of the Wind Caller's talons. Byleth scrunches up his eyes and yanks as hard as he possibly can, not realizing that his eyes are quite literally glowing. Claude gapes at the sight.

The Wind Caller goes down. Four, five, six. Dimitri breaks into a sprint somewhere nearby. Byleth has to reach the Wind Caller before he gets there, lest Dimitri kill the Wind Caller again and again and again, in variously violent and gory ways.

Byleth cannot count them all, but some are vivid, like the moment in which Dimitri threw his lance up through their eye if Byleth took too long to move, or when Dimitri stabbed into their skull repeatedly, the sound of bone crunching and guts squelching a cacophony of noise, or when Dimitri tossed his lance away, walked up to the Wind Caller with a serene sort of smile, charming and princely, and grabbed them by the feathers by their beaks and quite literally tore their head off with brute strength alone. Or the time when Dimitri forcibly tore out their eyes-

Byleth breaks into a run too, but his destination is Dimitri. It will take approximately thirty seven seconds for the Wind Caller to recover, if Byleth had done it correctly.

"Dimitri," Byleth casually greets, sliding in front of the prince and ignoring the absolutely intimidating trail of blood he tugs along whenever he moves. "Stop."

Dimitri does not seem to have heard Byleth. He keeps marching along, and almost knocks his shoulder into Byleth's own before a look appears on his face, frightened and small. "Professor," he rasps, eyes flickering from the bloody mess that is the remainder of Byleth's arm and the Wind Caller, struggling on the ground to take flight.

"Please don't," Byleth says. Briefly, he recounts the four times that he had encountered Dimitri like this.

Saying 'it's not worth it' had prompted Dimitri to fly into a greater rage, mumbling under his breath, something about worth, before hefting his spear and-

Saying 'that's the goddess' child' had prompted an even angrier, bloodier outcome. And then the time after that, when Byleth had said 'I won't forgive you if you hurt him,' Dimitri had practically snarled and told him that he couldn't forgive the Wind Caller that they hurt Byleth. And then after that instance, Byleth had merely placed his remaining hand on Dimitri's shoulder and shook his head, but that only served to remind the prince that Byleth had lost his other arm to the Wind Caller-

Byleth swallows and grits his teeth. "Do not, Dimitri," Byleth says. "It's alright. Sothis can-"

"Your faith in a miracle that will never happen is astounding," Dimitri actually snaps, and Byleth pauses just long enough for Dimitri to step around Byleth and-

Byleth's vision turns white as he hits the floor.

.

And Sothis stands again, just as quickly, and whips a hand out to grab Dimitri's free arm. 

While Byleth's body is indeed in a state of array, she is still a thousand times stronger in here than the other body. Sothis is rather upset about that fact. Byleth really was formed to be a vessel, incomparably perfect to be Sothis' host. It makes her furious, but using his body gives her strength like no other, as if she were in her original state.

Sothis wonders about Seiros' involvement for a moment, but not a moment longer. Though Byleth and his body is indeed strong, he was losing a lot of blood. Too much blood.

"Shut up for a moment," Sothis says, irritated by the pain that only seems to have worsened the longer it took for Sothis to take control. 

Dimitri whirls at the harsh words from his professor, balking ever so slightly until he actually lays eyes on Byleth's body, taking in his posture, his actual, furious scowl. 

Sothis uses the back of Byleth's remaining hand to wipe angrily at her face. "Curse everything under the heavens," Sothis spits. "It is worse than I thought."

What in the world had happened to her children, for them all to act like this, for them to be so bloodthirsty?

The Wind Caller regains their bearings, letting out a furious roar that fills Dimitri's blood with a seething, frenzied rage. "_You dare lay a hand on-_"

"_**YOU DARE LAY A HAND ON BYLETH?!**_" Sothis snaps, a growl more dragon than man escaping her throat. All eyes turn to her, but she barely notices. Sothis does not even register that she is floating off of the ground, fist clenched.

Macuil actually grins at her, shoulders relaxing. "Mother," Macuil. 

"_I am still speaking,_" Sothis says, dangerously. "You dare cut me off?"

The goddess is so furious, she can hardly see straight. Still, she lifts a steady finger at Macuil's head. "I command thee. Revert," she says, calmer than she feels.

The Wind Caller twitches, then convulses in a piercing ray of light, their figure slowly twisting and forming a shape that ever so slowly becomes less of an amalgamation and more of a mortal being.

A man tumbles in their place, naked, long, long green hair falling around them in a curtain. Just like Indech. Scars litter their torso and their legs, but have the look of wounds that no longer hurt nor ache. Unlike his brother, Macuil immediately waves a hand over himself to summon white robes that cover his body, and ties his hair up in a sloppy ponytail.

He struggles to speak, one hand reaching up to massage lightly at his throat. At first, the sounds that leave his mouth are more like croaks and growls, but soon they take form into a voice that could have been smooth and mature were it not for the cracks.

"I didn't know that you cared for a vessel that much," Macuil says weakly, through a small laugh that holds no humor. He bows his head, knowing that he is in great trouble. "He seems to be perfect for your usage. Is that why?"

Something snaps in Sothis' mind. "I don't have to care for someone for you to _not rip off their limbs and target people that they care about!_" Sothis snaps, absolutely filled with hellfire.

Macuil does not flinch, but it is a near thing. He quickly attempts to regain his footing on the situation, however. "Mother!" Macuil protests. "I understand that you are angry! But why are you yelling at me, your son, like this? Are you choosing this- this vessel, this stranger, over me?"

"Holy shit," a voice says. Sothis can briefly pick up on the tone. It is Claude.

Cichol runs up to Sothis' side, paler than snow. "Mother, he didn't mean to say it like that. Please, hurry up and heal Byleth's body!" Cichol swallows. "He may really be hurt, like this!"

Sothis scowls at Macuil. "So you still know I'm your mother, huh? Then you know I have to discipline you!"

Macuil kneels quietly as Sothis collapses to the floor, sitting there and radiating fury. In the distance, he can see the students leap into action, Mercedes, Annette, Linhardt, and even Marianne scurry over with distraught faces.

Sothis attempts to wave them off, but the gesture alone is practically torture. "No need," she says, trying to lighten her tone, both for her sake and for the sake of the students.

A sigil appears in front of her, golden light shining on her face. Claude whistles weakly somewhere in the distance.

"Do shut up," Sothis hisses, eyes still glaring at the bleeding lack of a limb on Byleth's body. Claude does not wince, to his credit, but in the corner of her eye, she can see that the boy is still shaking. "It's been a very long millennia since I've done this, I refuse to mess it up."

The students have now all crowded in. In particular, Sothis can see the Blue Lions form a semi circle in front of Byleth's body, presumably to protect him from Macuil.

Macuil does not move from his position, kneeling on the ground.

Sothis near yells as she chants a spell under breath, trying not to scream at the excruciating pain of Byleth's arm fixing itself blood cell by blood cell, knitting together nerves and flesh and veins and skin. Without her permission, Byleth's legs kick out furiously as a response to the pain, writhing on the ground, incensed by the sudden sensation. She can feel all of that mend ever so slowly, like fire coursing through his body instead of blood, so when it finally ends she collapses and heaves, chest struggling to gather breath.

Sothis flexes the renewed hand. At least, she thinks that she does. She is too exhausted to look. "Did anyone see Byleth's hand even twitch a bit," Sothis murmurs, quieter than she intended.

"Holy shit," Claude repeats.

The goddess closes her eyes, trying not to sigh in relief. 

"Thank the goddess," Mercedes whispers breathlessly, and then flushes a deep shade of pink when she realizes who she's talking to.

"Thanks and the like are indeed appreciated," Sothis says lazily, unprepared for the way Annette actually throws herself at Byleth's body, crying loudly. "Oof! Annette! Byleth might be injured in other places too!"

"Miss goddess," Annette sobs, tears dripping on Sothis' neck and sliding into Byleth's armor. Another student joins in, presumably Ashe by the hair colour. Sothis can barely tell. She can only barely see over the hair.

Sothis permits the touch for a moment longer before wiggling out of their touch. "Okay, okay, I get it. Let go." The Blue Lions do not let go. Instead, more of them pile onto Sothis. She wheezes at the weight, not actually able to see who joined the hug that may actually end her. Again. "Come on, I gotta do something! Goodness! I am going to tell Byleth that his brats tried to finish the job and suffocate him."

Annette giggles.

Very slowly, the Blue Lions get off of Byleth's body. Sothis can see Dedue standing at the side, a small quirk to his lips, Felix, a little ways away, arms folded but not scowling-

-and Dimitri, still staring at Macuil with a furious expression.

Sothis sighs and runs a hand through her hair, using the other to summon the Sword of the Creator to her hand. "Macuil," she says, and he bows to the floor, practically hitting his head against sand in the process.

.

Byleth wakes up.

It is odd that he has woken up. Especially here, in his bed, above his blankets and missing his pillows by a longshot. Wasn't he just doing something? Something about a giant bird, and wind, and Dimitri snapping a lance in his haste to-

Byleth curls up into his bed a moment longer, then snaps up, awake.

"Oh no," Byleth hisses, stumbling out of bed and nearly tripping. Something was off. Very off. For one, he was not wearing his armor, nor his nightgown. And did the floor seem farther from his feet? Did he still have both hands, and were they small and dainty?

Byleth looks into the mirror and sees the face of Sothis' body stare back. He almost falls over again at the sight.

Quickly, the pieces come together in his mind. Just like the time at Gronder field, Sothis must have taken control of Byleth. Which was absolutely fine. He needed all of the help that he could possibly get, and he trusted that Sothis would not allow the prince to kill the Wind Caller, her son, again. 

But instead of being pushed back into the far corners of his mind like the last time this happened, he was now occupying Sothis' body. It was a weird sensation. His viewpoint was lower, and he took up less space.

The body felt heavy, too. It was surprising, since he thought it was much lighter than his own, but it felt physically heavy, like Byleth had weights upon his chest and he struggled to breathe.

His breaths were shorter. Something about this body was just _wrong._ Byleth did not know how to explain it. It was as if it was a vessel that was meant to stand there and lie dead, never to be moved. A doll without form. 

Byleth looks back into the mirror. 

A smaller face. Locks of green hair that framed her eyes. Long eyelashes. Bits and pieces of her face looked like Byleth's own, but her eyes were huge, and her chin was less defined.

Something about their similarities was ringing bells in Byleth's head.

He reaches up and feels around at the hairpieces, noting how tightly woven into the hair they were. Next, at the powder dusting the face. It was odd.

Byleth spins around, watching the dress flow out around him. Yes, Byleth did make a nice decision choosing this one. He can see the tiniest peek of a knife slotted against Sothis' thigh. Another spin. Correction. Three knives.

He had wanted to give Sothis Airgetlam, which was both a selfless and a selfish course of action. Byleth wanted that weapon to protect the goddess, for her to wield it warily, but at the same time, he did not want the dagger on his person. The mere sight of it sent chills up and down his spine. 

And yet.

Byleth did not want the dagger out of his sight. He knew that Kronya was dead. But at heart, he was a paranoid, untrusting person. It would be safer in his hands, or Sothis' own.

A knock on the door stops his spinning. Byleth was getting dizzy anyway.

He walks over to it, careful to undertake Sothis' expressions and walk, and sees Rhea on the other side.

Rhea grins at him, but then looks him up and down and that smile ever so slightly dims. Byleth resists the urge to swallow. She absolutely knows that it is him.

She tilts her head to one side, the little dangling strings of jewelry attached to her headpiece jingling quietly, and then her smile grows again. "Lonato is still here. I am awaiting your judgement, my goddess."

_She knows._ Byleth would bet money on it. 

Instead of falling into his usual speech patterns and habits, Byleth nods and follows her. Rhea steps out of the way, standing at the side, and Byleth realizes that a goddess probably does not follow behind someone, so he takes the lead.

Lonato is still kneeling there, but his head raises when he spots Byleth. "My goddess," he greets. "I hope I did not cause your sudden distress."

Byleth watches Rhea's jaw lock as she steps out at his side and steadies himself. "Of course not."

"May I have the honor of hearing your decision now?" Lonato asks. "Surely you will do the right thing."

Rhea grins and Byleth can only see it spell out danger. "No one can command the goddess to move," Rhea tells him pleasantly. "Why are you doing so then, Lord Lonato?"

"I was merely enquiring," Lonato replies smoothly, with all of the scathing politeness that both himself and Rhea have slathered across their faces like masks. Byleth does not enjoy politics. "Surely the goddess will hear any prayer."

"You truly are an arrogant-"

Byleth turns to look at Rhea with a face that he hopes is both intimidating and serenely calm. She closes her mouth as he turns back to Lonato.

Honestly, Byleth did not know what to do in this situation.

"I do not take orders," Byleth says, trying not to show surprise at the voice leaving his mouth. "Nor do I respond to aimless pressures to any of my decisions."

Lonato bows. "I was wrong," he says.

"That being said," Byleth says, examining his nails like Sothis would. "I will have to ruminate on this matter a little more. You are dismissed."

Since Byleth does not know what to do, he hands the matter to Sothis. It was not his business, anyway. What really mattered was what happened next. If Rhea did indeed order Lonato's son to be executed, and if his son was plotting against the church, then Byleth had no idea what to do.

Lonato wanted justice for his son. It was unclear what exactly Rhea wanted to protect- her church as a whole? Or something else, like the orphans she took in, or the wanderers now under her wing?

Wisely, Lonato does not push it. He bows deeply to Byleth, and then sends Rhea a look that promises murder. She sends one right back. Byleth really, truly feels for Sothis. "Your decision to think on this matter further is truly benevolent of you," Lonato says, softer now. "My goddess, I thank you. Men! Go find us an inn!"

They all disperse. Byleth knows that they'll be back soon.

With that matter hastily pushed away for now, Byleth turns to look at Rhea. "Are you not about to ask me something?"

The Archbishop smiles at him.

.

"How many times?" Sothis asks, lazily.

"Mother, forgive me!" Macuil pleads.

The students watch them warily. "Back off," Sothis says, shooing them away in a quick motion of her hand. Obediently they all scurry back, save for Dimitri, who has to be tugged along by Dedue, and for Edelgard, who hesitates a moment and seems to bristle at the command. 

Cichol stands in front of them like an invisible barrier, Cethleann right behind him.

Sothis tuts and slowly rotates her head to listen to the cracks that resound in the air as she does so. "That is not what I asked, Macuil. You were always a smart one. The only one even vaguely aware that those little blips, those heartbeats in time, were even occurring. So, let me ask you again. You can even guess, if you want! How many times?"

Macuil does not scramble to his feet, merely rests in his bowed position, looking smaller and smaller the more angry Sothis is. She does not want Macuil to be angry at her, nor does her want him hurt. But something has to be done.

"How many times?" Sothis repeats, lower now, so that the students do not hear. Of course, Macuil's hearing is perfect and superior to any of the humans there.

Macuil does not move.

"Get up," Sothis says.

Still, he does not budge.

"Up," Sothis commands, eyes furious. She can feel the rage radiating off of her, waves of murderous intent dangerous enough to choke out breath and snuff out lives. "I'm not finished, Macuil. I have seen every possible scenario in which Byleth has fought you in this moment. He has lost his limbs a total of eight times. I shall make you pay for every single one of them."

When Macuil does not immediately leap to his feet, Sothis stomps her foot and the ground underneath his body forces him to stand. "UP, I said!"

He stumbles at the sudden movement, eyes flicking to both his mother and his brother, standing far from him. When Cichol does not move, Macuil frowns and reaches a hand out.

A book flies into his hand. He waves a hand over it, and sigils appear in the air. 

Sothis can practically feel Linhardt perk up at the sight.

From here, Sothis sees him swallow. The both of them know she will win. 

That will not stop him from trying.

Sothis leaps out, and with Byleth's capabilities and her knowledge of his powers, she crosses the field in two seconds and swipes at his chest with the sword. He dodges, but not quickly enough to stop a slash. A small cut beads with blood and dyes his white robes red.

It would be smart to simply flee from Sothis, but she is faster than he in this body. 

Macuil steps back, sand flying everywhere. He skids against the ground, kicking up sand and tossing wind spell after wind spell after Sothis. They practically slice the air in two, the sound ringing in her ears.

She turns her head to dodge them, ever so slightly. No point in wasted movement. When Byleth's body moves across the earth, his feet do not kick up any granules of the red sand. Sothis feels light. She feels wonderful, powerful.

Sothis has to get out of this body.

The goddess drops herself to the floor to dodge another spell, then quickly floats herself up. She wonders if Byleth would be able to sprout wings under certain conditions. Maybe. It would be faster than simply floating.

She drops down to the earth, now purposefully kicking up sand as Macuil covers his face. With this momentum, she momentarily drops the Sword of the Creator to use both hands to flip Macuil over her shoulder and onto the sand.

The earth shatters beneath his body, and it rumbles unpleasantly under Macuil's back. 

When called, the Sword of the Creator flies back. She lifts it over Macuil's arm with a laziness that would make arrogant opponents angry with her. "Do you yield?" Sothis asks.

Macuil stares up at her. "Absolutely not," he says, and they resume their brawl.

.

The dining hall clears out when the knights, nuns, and staff see the Archbishop and the presumed goddess step inside. The Archbishop does not explicitly chase them out or shoo them away like some sort of annoying flies, but she does ask to speak with the goddess alone, so they all scramble out of the halls like their life depends on it.

The Archbishop steps behind the counter where the workers serve the food and rummages around on a shelf. Byleth sits himself down on a bench and watches her quietly. She had refused his silent question of help and had insisted that she herself make the tea.

"Do you have any preference in tea, professor Byleth?" Rhea asks him casually, a note of serenity in her voice. "On the shelves there is chamomile, crescent moon tea, bergamot, and a cinnamon blend. Ah! But I'm sure there might be something else in the kitchen if you so desire."

"...Chamomile, if you please." Byleth says.

Rhea turns around to smile at him. "Chamomile it is. You know, I enjoy this beverage as well. Did you choose it, knowing that?"

Byleth did indeed have a knack for knowing which tea everyone prefers most. He thinks of it as a talent of his. But in reality, this time, he just wanted a calming blend. "I like chamomile," he says softly.

Rhea heats up some water with magic and drops tea leaves into a cup, carefully and meticulously pouring hot water over them when it has finished boiling. Byleth watches her hands. He doesn't know what she wants, or how she intends for this meeting to go, but Byleth has become war hardened and is far too paranoid to not watch anyone make him a drink.

The Archbishop does not drop something in his tea, or whatever Byleth's paranoid mind thinks up. She simply serves the tea, bringing a small tray of sugar with her. She makes a second trip to pick up some small cakes for tea and sets them in front of Byleth before taking a seat in fron of him.

Byleth takes a sip. 

"How is it, professor?" Rhea asks. "You are indeed our resident tea expert. Do not fret. I will not be offended if you dislike the taste."

"It's fine," Byleth says honestly, and picks up a small cake. "You know. You can get to the point. I will also not be offended if you bring up whatever you wanted so early in our conversation."

Rhea laughs, pressing a hand to her mouth to cover her wide smile. She picks up her cup first, drinking daintily from it. "You are correct, professor. It really is just fine." Rhea stirs in a bit of sugar before she continues to speak, and the spoon does not clink along the sides of her tea cup. "Is everything okay? With that body, I mean. No overwhelming nausea? No heaviness? What about how it feels? Are you alright in there?"

Byleth blinks at the very specific questions. "Why?" 

"I was wondering if you would lend your body to mother for awhile longer yet," Rhea says casually, examining a little cake before she picks one up that meets her unsaid specifications. "You know, she's been very tired lately. We discuss things late into the night, her, me, and my brothers. I was wondering if you could share that burden."

Byleth opens his mouth to speak, but she quickly cuts in. "I apologize about this sudden request," Rhea says, voice still carefully pleasant. "However, no one would know, correct? You know her mannerisms more than any other."

"Wouldn't you know better?" Byleth asks. Rhea seems to be pleased at the comment, although it was more of a statement rather than a compliment.

"Maybe so."

"I'm actually quite fond of my body," Byleth says warily, tensing his body to run, just in case.

"I can make you one," Rhea cuts in. "Another body. Similar to your own."

Byleth is absolutely not following where this conversation is going. Rhea barrels on. "Your body, but better. You'll keep every feature, your hair, your height, your eyes. It'll be just the same, but I am capable of making you stronger!"

Something about this entire conversation is making Byleth want to run, run far away, run to Sothis and demand what the hell was happening.

"You are very intent on this," Byleth comments, instead of running from this odd conversation. "Why not put Sothis in that body, then? If it is so similar and better than my own."

"I will cut to the point, then, like you have directed me to." The Archbishop smiles at him, takes a breath, and exhales very quietly. "Because your friend- and my mother, is dying."

"What are you-"

Rhea does not even twitch when Sothis appears through a sudden rift in dimensions, dragging Macuil in by the ear, the students piling in behind her. 

"Think about it," Rhea mouths at him, as Sothis spots him.

"Byleth!" Sothis greets, running towards him and allowing him to scoop her up in his arms and twirl her around, even though Byleth's mind is floating away elsewhere.

On their second spin, Byleth is back in his body. Sothis sets him down. "You are so heavy," she complains, then gets a good look at his face. "Byleth, is everything okay?"

Byleth turns to look at Rhea, who smiles at him, and lies. "Yes. Everything is fine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dun dun dun ×9
> 
> OKAY JUST A REMINDER IM NOT UPDATING GODSPEED NEXT WEEK TO WORK ON MY ONESHOTS. YOU'LL PROBABLY SEE THEM WITHIN THE WEEKS MAYBE
> 
> next time on godspeed z! byleth is so confused, jeralt throws hands, sothis announces a ball, someone is kicked in the balls, everyone is a liar, byleth gets a new support. look forward to it!
> 
> yall im literally squeezing every single drop of yearning byleth will not emote for Awhile in the other shit im working in it's foregoing characterization for pining im so mad at myself dhdhhdhdh
> 
> thanks so very much for reading ♡
> 
> byleth/dimitri B rank  
byleth/dedue B rank  
byleth/felix B rank  
byleth/annette B rank  
byleth/ingrid B rank  
byleth/sylvain B rank  
byleth/mercedes B rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt B rank  
byleth/ferdinand B rank  
byleth/lysithea B rank  
byleth/cyril C+ rank  
byleth/flayn B rank  
byleth/caspar B rank  
byleth/dorothea C+ rank
> 
> byleth/jeritza C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/sothis A rank  
byleth/claude C+ rank  
byleth/?????????????? rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea C+ rank


	39. bone marrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone! i missed you very dearly. i hope you've been staying safe!
> 
> holy fuckeroni we hit 5000 kudos like holy shit 5000?????? my gosh my god you guys are incredible im actually so honored thank you so much for supporting godspeed ♡
> 
> everyone im begging you please take a look at this lovely art of dimi with black goo sword juice by the lovely trickstarbrave [super gorgeous art](https://trickstarbrave.tumblr.com/post/619260174003290112/what-are-you-byleth-your-sword-i-am-your) im crying i think i swooned when i laid eyes on it
> 
> this was a fun chapter to write mm hm

It is quite difficult for people that quite literally share a mind and a body to keep secrets from one another, so it does not take long for Byleth to reveal what's on his mind.

After the students have all dispersed to their rooms or even to the bath house, Byleth walks briskly back to his own quarters and collapses face first onto the bed. He did not look at Rhea when he departed.

Someone walks through the door behind him, hot on his heels. Sothis clicks her tongue at him, disapproving. "At least close the door before you decide to become one with your bed," she scolds him. Byleth can barely hear her. 

_I knew that you were following, so why bother?_ Instead of a coherent sentence like that, Byleth mumbles into the bed sheets. "Mpmhmp bmdhph hmph?"

"Congratulations on your utter incoherent nature," Sothis says, and shuts the door before walking over to him and sitting on his back. Byleth is fine like this. He wouldn't mind becoming one with his bed, pillows, and blankets, like Sothis had said.

Rhea's words rattle around in his mind.

"Byleth, can you move both arms for me?" Sothis asks.

"Sothis, are you dying?" Byleth asks, at the same time.

"What?" 

Byleth turns his head so that he is no longer face down in the sheets. "Are you dying?"

Sothis snorts. "Me? What brought this on?" She rummages around in his thoughts aimlessly until she stops short. "Gosh, that girl...! Saying useless things, all the time!"

"But are you dying?" Byleth asks.

Leaning over, Sothis flicks Byleth on the nose with deft fingers. He cannot escape. "Well, in a manner, yes, I am dying."

Byleth struggles to sit up and properly meet Sothis' gaze, but she pins him in place with her weight and an odd silence. 

"Ah, ah," Sothis says, far too casual.

"Sothis..."

She leans so that she's lying down on his back too, eyes on the ceiling. "You and I both know that this body will not last," she says. "How should I go about explaining this to you... I cannot be contained in a vessel, a body, unless very specific matters are met first. No matter whose body I jump in to, whether artificial or if it had previously belonged to someone, it will wither and fade- essentially, it will die unless the conditions are met."

"And besides," she continues, almost bitter. "I cannot really die. Not when..."

Byleth cannot see the look on her face, but he knows that something is wrong. He hurries to move on to another topic as quickly as he can.

"What are the conditions?" Byleth asks. "Want me to look for a suitable body for you?"

Sothis grows silent. "Byleth, you're smarter than you look. Surely, you should know by now- with my daughter's horrible attempts at subtlety, you should know what body suits me best."

"You can take my body," Byleth says, immediately. Sothis laughs, and the sound is forced.

"Thanks, but no thanks, Byleth." Sothis says. "It will be different than me taking control of your movements, or us switching bodies and whoever is 'in charge' at the moment. And you wouldn't last in this body," she informs him, gesturing at herself.

Byleth sighs. "But I don't mind," he says.

"Well, one of the conditions is that you die," Sothis informs him, sugary sweet. 

For some reason, the news is not at all shocking to him. "Hmm. And we cannot simply coexist?"

Sothis shakes her head. "Now that I've revealed myself to the world, it would be difficult to prevent rumors of your involvement if I were to become a stowaway inside your head," she tells him, rolling around on his back. Byleth groans. "I have no intention of letting anyone know that I was even in there, anyway. Nor do I have any intention of staying in there permanently."

"What about when I die?" Byleth says. "Is it necromancy if I give you full permission to do whatever you desire with my body when I die?"

"Well, necromancy is about controlling the dead, regardless of permission, so I would say so," Sothis says. "And here's another thing, Byleth- I am not sure how long your lifespan will be."

Byleth cocks his head to the other side. "What do you mean? Are you expecting me to die young?"

Sothis finally crawls off his back, relaxing on the pillows at the head rest. "Quite the opposite, really."

Byleth rolls over silently, kicking off his boots and watching them fly across the room before he curls up more on his bed. He pieces a few thoughts together, almost lazily. "I don't feel immortal," Byleth says, thoughtfully. "Nor do I feel like I have received any goddess residue from your end that would make me more powerful- well, other than the pulses and such."

"_Residue?!_" Sothis snaps. She clear her throat. "Whatever. The point is, Byleth, is that you are a very special case. You were born dead, you know that, right? And yet here you are, alive in front of me, and you have housed a goddess within you for years and you still seem mortal. And yet..."

The goddess shrugs to herself, kicking at Byleth's shoulders so he moves, enabling her to bring up the corners of the blankets so she can crawl inside. "The point is," she adds, a yawn tacking on the end of her words, "is that you are an enigma, and I don't know what to do with you."

Byleth rolls over to face her, a question in his eyes. "So, I can't just... move over?"

"That's not how it works."

"But have you ever tried taking over a body of an individual that was still alive?" A beat passes before Sothis shakes her head lightly. "Then how will you know that I'll die? Or that I'll die if I stay in another body, for who knows how long?"

The goddess meets his eyes, suddenly serious. "I just know," she says, and although Sothis does not raise her voice, it reverberates around his room like thunder.

Sighing, Byleth resigns himself to another sleep without full access to most of his bed, when Sothis speaks up. "...Avoid my daughter from now on, okay?" She kicks at him from under the sheets until Byleth swears that he will. "I don't know... There's something about her that I cannot put a finger on. She won't harm you, but... Oh, and you better not let her do anything weird to your body! She might try to coerce you to let me take over, like she did before. Okay?"

"Okay," Byleth agrees. "Wait."

Despite the fact that they were not facing each other, Byleth can practically see the goddess rolling her eyes. "I have a question," he says, softer now.

Sothis raises a slender finger and waggles it from side to side. "I'll allow one question. One! I don't have time for others!"

Byleth tilts his head to one side, considering what to ask. Did that mean he was allowed to ask anything? _Anything,_ despite their situation?

In reality, he did not have too many pressing questions. He trusted Sothis, and her judgment.

There was one question that had been weighing on his mind for a while. Months, even.

"I am still confused about your body," Byleth replies honestly. It seems as if Sothis did not expect that question either. "It seems very convenient that it was just... there. For your use. And if Rhea wanted me to be your, hm... Your vessel, then why have a second? Don't I meet the conditions I don't know about? Is it possible that that vessel meets those conditions, too? Well. I'm assuming that's what your current body is for, anyway."

"I don't know," Sothis says, sounding both tired and deep in thought. "I really don't know... I'll press my daughter for answers later. Now is the time for sleeping, Byleth."

When Byleth finally falls asleep, he sees a dream from a time long passed, and as if watching from the distance, he gazes upon the crack in dimensions that he created, and sees fire light in his eyes when he appears.

.

"I cannot believe that I'm actually saying this," Caspar begins brightly, "but after all that went down these past few days and weeks or whatever, I'm so glad to be back in a classroom!"

Byleth can relate. They've taken a break after a lecture, and the students all seem relieved to be back in their desks. A familiar quill was not something Byleth had expected to miss, let alone find nostalgic. It had only been a matter of days, after all. Perhaps it was simply a change in perspective after being thrown around by Sothis' children. 

Linhardt yawns, and Byleth is surprised this boy was even awake. Ever since he had laid eyes on Macuil, the boy has been in and out of the library non stop. He had even somehow ordered books from a merchant and had made them deliver to his room in the academy, which was a memorable occasion due to Seteth's expressions. "Professor," Linhardt drawls. "Caspar has been possessed."

Ashe laughs as Caspar sputters, attempting to formulate words and yet utterly failing. 

"It's kind of a shame," Ingrid says. "I wanted to see Zanado again."

Felix's nose wrinkles. "Really?"

Byleth sighs softly. He's happy that Sothis did not have another secret child, or perhaps they really would have gone back to the canyon.

There was something about that place that evoked inexplicable feelings and emotions in Byleth. He wouldn't remind returning to that canyon. Perhaps on a trip on his own.

Byleth waits patiently for Annette to finish her pastry before he continues on with the lecture. She shoots him an apologetic grin as she licks crumbs and jam from her lips.

As she promptly shoves the rest of the treat in her mouth, Byleth's eyes land on Dimitri. He seemed... relatively okay, but appearances were oft deceiving. Byleth makes a mental note to drop him off with Manuela after one of the classes.

When Dimitri realizes that Byleth is staring, he meets his gaze head on, stare affixed to Byleth's face. It was if Dimitri was studying something there.

"Is there something on my face, Dimitri?" Byleth asks.

Dimitri doesn't seem to have heard him. Dedue nudges him gently with his elbow, and that snaps the boy back to attention. Dimitri shakes his head. "I'm sorry, professor. What was that?"

It's Byleth's turn to shake his head. "It is fine, Dimitri. Do not worry. Where were we?" Byleth asks, turning to look at his notes. 

The prince frowns, and is about to speak, when Sothis bursts into the room with Rhea hot in on her heels. Sothis does not look happy, and Rhea seems as if she would trip all over herself in order to wipe that expression from her mother's face.

"I have said my piece," Sothis says, stomping inelegantly in a way that speaks of no such peace whatsoever, "leave me be."

"Ah, but m- Sothis, please listen!" Rhea pleads, trying to walk around her mother so that she would meet her eyes. Sothis only speeds up her pace, and marches straight up to Byleth's desk.

Byleth stares at her. "What's wrong?" He asks, staring at her trembling bottom lip and her furious, frenzied eyes.

"Catch me," Sothis says, and her eyes roll back in her head as her body falls to the floor- or it would have, if Byleth did not scoop her up lightly.

And Sothis' body falls into Byleth's arms, while she lands practically face first back into his head.

Rhea gasps, hands over her mouth. Byleth stares down at the body in his arms. 

"I'm still here, dummy!" Sothis yells, floating around him. The sight of her, with her usual clothes and long, dark green hair, makes Byleth feel very warm. "I'm not dead! I'm literally in your head again!"

Byleth glances over at his class and decides to speak out loud for the sake of everyone in the room, who were unwitting witnesses.

"Uh, Sothis jumped back into my head," Byleth says. The Blue Lions seem to portray a wide variety of emotions- surprise, unease, confusion, and also whatever Linhardt seemed to be feeling as his eyes shone. The boy was quite literally brought to his feet with excitement with Byleth's words.

Rhea sighs in relief, hand to her chest. "I thought the worst had happened," she breathes, and Byleth looks away from her expression.

"I'm not talking to her! I don't want to hear anything that she says!" Sothis spits, slapping her hands against his shoulders. "Tell her, Byleth!"

Byleth glances briefly up at the sky so that it might grant him strength. "She says that she doesn't want to speak with you," he tells Rhea, watching her practically pout.

"And I want her out! Out, now!" 

Byleth purses his lips. "She says that she wants you to leave, too," Byleth says.

Rhea stands there, looking shocked. She doesn't move.

In the silence, Byleth fumbles with his hands before he nods and makes a decision. He hums to himself as he gathers Sothis' body up and places it gently against the wall, slumped over, lifeless. Byleth pauses briefly to shrug his cloak from his shoulders, and then drapes it over the body.

"You know it doesn't matter if it gets cold, right?" Sothis asks, daintily hovering nearby. Byleth has missed the sight of her.

When Byleth turns his attention back to Rhea, she has already gathered up her composure. Rhea smiles at him, thin lipped. "Alright. But when she want to talk again, please come tell her to find me. Oh! You can also come find me, or Macuil. He would like to speak with you."

"Sure, I would love to have another one of my arms ripped off," Byleth says, monotone, and nearly winces when his students flinch. Some are better at hiding their reactions from others, but some go pale, and Dimitri in particular has snapped a quill, right down the middle, in his hand.

Rhea blinks at him, then her face contorts with something like anger. "My goodness," she says, and it does sound angry. But is it anger on Byleth's behalf, or the fact that his body alone was harmed? "I'll have to have a word with him. Please look after her body! Excuse me."

She turns on her heel and seems to quickly glide from the room.

"I still think we should kill him," Dimitri says pleasantly. "Ha, ha. I am merely joking!"

To Byleth's utter disbelief, he can see the Blue Lions with compliant faces.

Sothis drapes herself across Byleth's shoulders. "Ha ha, he says," she drawls. "He did not even laugh! He actually said 'ha ha!'"

Byleth stares at him.

"He said, with the tone of someone absolutely not joking at all," Sylvain muses. Byleth sighs. He was a bit worried that no one else had caught his tone. 

Honestly, he is surprised that Sylvain and Sothis were so in sync just now.

"Well, if you're not joking, I'll cheer you on!" Sylvain tells him. Byleth turns his almost incredulous expression on him now. "Maybe even help out."

"Don't you dislike me?" Byleth asks. Now it's Sylvain's turn to look incredulous.

"No?" Sylvain blurts, then coughs. "Why would you think that? Well, maybe for like, a day at first, but I realized that you have your own problems."

"But don't you dislike me for my-" Byleth blinks at Sothis as she shoves a hand in front of his mouth. The Blue Lions stare at him, wondering what was wrong.

Sothis glares at him, silently. "Ah, sorry," Byleth begins, his attention on the goddess. "Sothis was worried that I would- never mind."

Before the tension can snap, Sothis nudges him.

"Can you tell your students that the ball is next week?" Sothis asks, with the face of someone who desperately wanted to change the subject before it delved into matters that were meant to be unspoken. 

"Sure," Byleth says, surprised at the sudden change. "Sothis says the the ball is next week."

The change in topic is abrupt, but it is one that his students latch onto with glee, the other subject pushed aside for the moment.

"That's right," Byleth says, distantly reminded of his past life, and the dancer for their class. "I have to choose a representative for the White Heron cup."

In his previous life, it had been-

"Professor, do you know how to dance?" Mercedes asks, looking excited at the prospect of the ball. Her seatmate, Ingrid, has her face down on the desk, while Dorothea, on her other side, pats her on the back.

"I have danced," Byleth says, remembering childhood memories of his father twirling him around while laughing, and an eager looking Claude, pulling him to the dance floor. "But saying that I am an experienced dancer would be false."

"There's someone who can teach you," Sylvain says, elbowing Dimitri's sides. The Blue Lions look at them with a worried expression, but Dimitri only goes red.

"But Dimitri can't dance," Byleth says.

Everyone blinks at him. "Well, that may be... somewhat true..." Dimitri begins, carefully trailing off. "But how do you know this, professor Byleth?"

_Professor, I beg you. Do not choose me as the representative for our class._

Byleth reaches a hand out to him, the other placed onto his chest. "Would you like to demonstrate otherwise?"

_I am utterly serious._

Sylvain wolf whistles while Dimitri blushes up to his roots. "I don't want to step on your toes, professor," he says, tripping over his words.

Byleth nods at him. "It is fine. I have already chosen a representative for our class."

Some of the students look afraid, while most sit up in their chairs, looking very excited. 

.

Byleth has resorted to carrying Sothis' lifeless body on his back until she decides to return to it.

He treks up the stairs to his father's office, with Sothis' not so encouraging calls at his back with every single step. He needs to brush up on his dancing, and if his memory does not fail him like it usually has, his father did indeed teach him a few steps in his past.

Byleth does not bother to knock. He merely walks inside with a soft call, and closes the door behind him.

"Ah, Byleth," his father greets. "Sorry I couldn't greet you when you returned. Is that... Sothis on your back?" Jeralt asks, from somewhere in the room.

Byleth deposits the lifeless body onto his father's couch and sighs. "Yes. She escaped into my head in order to ignore whatever Rhea was telling her."

A small, unidentifiable chuckle fills the room. On instinct, Byleth whirls around, hand on his sword's hilt, and sees a boy leaning against the wall.

Byleth looks between him and his father, still wary. "Ah, it's alright, Byleth." Jeralt says, after a brief moment. "Apparently he works for Rhea. We were discussing safety protocols for the upcoming ball."

He still doesn't let go of his sword. Jeralt smiles at him. "Byleth, it's really okay. I could handle this skinny twig in my sleep."

As his father continues to reassure him, Byleth relaxes. He has been entirely on edge, nowadays, and for good reason. 

"Skinny twig?" The boy demands, sounding a bit offended, but there is a lilt to his voice that speaks to no dire consequence. Jeralt rolls his eyes, but the curve of his lips is amused.

Byleth nods at him. There was an air about this boy, the kind of edge that beautiful people possessed who knew that they were beautiful, and were not ashamed of that fact. Violet hair, violet eyes, a sharp sword on his hip, an even sharper smile on his lips. 

He was indeed pretty, but Byleth was quite immune to those faces by now. "Hello," Byleth greets. "I am Byleth Eisner."

"Charmed," the boy says, pleasantly. "I am Yuri, at your service."

Sothis rolls his eyes at his introduction. 

_You know him?_

"Not really," Sothis says, eyeing him warily. "Apparently, my daughter hired him to shadow me when you were away. But we have not talked much."

Yuri smiles at him. "The Ashen Demon," he says conversationally. "I've heard so much about you."

"I see," Byleth says, and then says nothing more. 

Yuri walks up to him, a grin plastered on his face, and tilts Byleth's chin up with a finger. His father makes a strangled sound in the background.

"Don't you dare flirt with my son in front of me," Jeralt scolds him.

Yuri studies his face for a moment longer, and then backs away. A nice, sweet scent hangs in the air between them. "Then am I allowed to do it when you're not around?" Yuri asks, and before his father can become angry, Yuri chuckles. "Kidding, of course."

Byleth has no idea how to handle these sorts of people. 

"Well, I better get going!" Yuri says, sing song. "I wouldn't dare stand in the way of any father son bonding time." 

With a long stride, Yuri walks over to the door, and before he actually leaves the room, he smiles again. "Byleth, why don't you tell him what happened when you went on your latest journey?"

Yuri departs from the room, and Byleth barely has time to think 'how did he find out' and also 'oh no' when Sothis leaps from his head and into the body.

Sothis bows her head, looking ashamed. "Forgive me," Sothis begins. "I said that I would protect Byleth, and yet I failed. Even though I repaired his body, my son still hurt Byleth, and it was absolutely unforgivable of him."

Jeralt places the papers he was looking over down onto his desk. "What did he do, Byleth?" His father asks, staring at him.

Byleth is aware of the precariousness of the situation, which is why he tries to diffuse the tension. "It's alright, father. It's all healed now."

"That was not what I asked," Jeralt says, simply. "What did he do?"

"He separated an arm from Byleth's body," Sothis interrupts. His father stands from his chair, eyes wild. Byleth winces. "I repaired it, but the fact stands that he still did such a thing."

Byleth covers his face with a hand.

Silently, his father walks up to Byleth, and takes his hand away from his face. "Are you alright, Byleth?"

"...You're not mad?"

"_Of course I'm mad!_" Jeralt snaps. "I would like nothing more than to walk over to wherever that scum bag is and return the favor!"

Byleth blinks at him. "Please don't do that."

Jeralt sighs, trying to relax his shoulders and failing miserably. "I still want to. Don't leave me alone in a room with that bastard."

They move to sit on his father's couch, Sothis sliding over so that there's more room. His father sighs and throws an arm over Byleth.

"Goddess above," Jeralt says. "I should have fled the continent with you. You don't deserve any of this."

Sothis and Byleth remain silent and pretend like Jeralt's eyes aren't wet. Byleth melts in his father's arms. He was not upset that he was hurt, but now that his father was upset, he felt angry, too.

"I wouldn't blame you for wanting to hurt him," Sothis tells him, eyes ahead.

"Oh yeah," Jeralt says, after a moment. "At the very least, I'm gonna kick him where the sun don't shine the next I see him. At the _least._"

Sothis looks down at her lap. "I'll pretend that I didn't hear that."

A thought keeps coming back to him. 

How did Yuri know about that? Did Rhea tell him? But earlier that day, she had seemed surprised when Byleth had mentioned what he had done.

Yuri.

A person that Byleth has never met, even in two lifetimes.

Byleth would have to keep an eye on him.

.

"One, two, one," Byleth says. The dancing pair spins around on the grass, one stiff and the other with the slightest bit of grace. "Felix, I understand that you are embarrassed, but you can place your hand on my hip."

Felix pointedly does not look at him, and does not move his hand to Byleth's hip. In fact, it seems as if he has moved it further away, and it trembles in mid air.

"Felix," Byleth says. "You really want to accept defeat this early?"

The boy in question scowls, knowing his weakness has been struck, and makes an unflattering grumble sound, but moves the hand that he let hover away from Byleth's hip back in place. It was actually quite amusing- Felix's hand seemed to refuse being any closer than a foot to his hip.

"Five, six, seven, eight," Byleth says, light on his toes. They shuffle around a bit, the movements a bit awkward because Felix looks as if he would rather be dead than dancing in Byleth's arms.

Byleth hums quietly, to the tune of an unheard song, and Felix steps in beat with the light sound. "Have you danced before?" Byleth asks, even though he knows the answer.

"I should be asking you that," Felix mumbles, frowning. "Yeah. My... Well. I'm related to a duke, aren't I?"

He looks especially grumpy after that sentence, so Byleth picks up the pace to get his mind off of things. "And back, Felix. Very good."

Felix says something under his breath as they adjust their hands to shift into another step.

"Professor," Felix scowls, hair spinning around when they do. "Why are we doing this?"

Byleth turns on his heel and brings Felix into a slightly different step, watching the boy curse under his breath and stumble to catch up. "You are the one who asked me to teach you how to dance properly," Byleth informs him.

Felix rolls his eyes, and then once again moves his hand from Byleth's hip to gesture at the crowd they had amassed, his face the colour of beets. "_I mean out in the open like this, professor!_" Felix's voice cracks on the end.

The Blue Lions are watching them spin around on the grass outside of their classroom, looking endlessly amused. Byleth can see Lysithea and Caspar devouring some kind of snack as if they were watching a play.

Sylvain cups his hands around his mouth, grinning so wildly it even embarrasses Byleth. "Dip him!" 

The Blue Lions go wild after those words, repeating them in delighted cheers. Felix tucks his head away into the crook of his arm.

"Who?" Byleth asks.

"Anyone of you! Please," Sylvain laughs, looking as if he was about to collapse on the ground in amusement. "Please, it'll make my day. I'm begging you, please!"

So Byleth complies. On a step that swings Felix and makes him shift his weight onto one foot, Byleth moves so that one hand is around his waist, and leans. Felix yelps as he is dipped, one leg raising up naturally.

The Blue Lions begin to scream loudly. Byleth is not sure if they are amused, horrified, excited, or all of the above. They're cheering so loud some of the passersby double take, which in turn makes Felix's face turn a more intense shade of red.

"Holy shit," Sylvain says, wiping tears from his eyes.

When Byleth tugs him forward, Felix trips ever so slightly at the sudden shift in gravity, so Byleth lifts him up and spins him around, hands on his hips, so that Felix doesn't stumble. 

Their unwitting audience goes wild.

Annette is shrieking in pure elation, clapping her hands together in glee. Even Dedue and Dimitri look rather amused, despite the fact that the latter had been rather gloomy for the past couple of days.

"If I step back," Byleth says, meeting Felix's eyes, "will you be able to follow the steps on your own?"

"Yeah, yeah," Felix grumbles.

Unsurprisingly, Felix falls into a perfect routine dancing with his shadow. In his past life, Byleth did not expect their class to win, since he did in fact choose Felix, who seemed wildly uninterested in the position of dancer, but Felix had swept the judges off of their feet when he incorporated a few of the styles he learned in his swordsmanship training. 

Everyone was very surprised. The Blue Lions were absolutely floored, in particular.

When asked, that Felix had only told them that he hated to lose.

"I would love to see Felix in that dancer's outfit," Annette says, and the girls giggle.

"He can sweep me off of my feet," Sylvain adds, still laughing.

Surprised, Felix slams face first into Byleth's chest. Luckily, he was not wearing armor due to their dance practice, but it still could not have been a pleasant feeling. And even more luckily, Byleth was standing nearby. He would rather have Felix fall onto him rather then potentially hurt his face on the hard ground. Struggling to catch his breath and to right himself, Felix practically smears his visage on his chest. Byleth does not move, wondering if staying quiet would lend him more of an earful.

He is expecting an 'I give up,' or perhaps even for Felix to stomp away with his face red, but he does not expect the odd expression on Felix's face. It is a mixture of surprise, and something...

Byleth looks down at the boy. "Are you alright?"

Felix, still collapsed on his person, turns his head to press his ear against Byleth's chest. The more seconds that pass, the more odd his expression becomes.

"Felix?"

Finally, the boy looks up at him, eyebrows scrunched up. Byleth immediately lifts a hand to his brow and smooths out the lines with his thumb. "You may get face lines at a young age," Byleth says softly.

He makes another incredulous expression up at him. "Professor?" Felix demands. "Where is your heart beat?"

Oh.

Hmm...

"I have also been wondering that for quite some time," Byleth tells him, very seriously. Felix rolls his eyes, but does not look satisfied in the slightest.

"This has something to do with that goddess of yours, doesn't it?" Felix demands.

Byleth shrugs. "Probably."

At his lack of a proper reaction, Felix's expression worsens. "You act as if your life belongs to yourself alone," he snaps. "Why are you acting so nonchalantly?!"

"...How else am I supposed to react?" Byleth asks, genuinely confused. 

Felix does not look happy with his response. "You're so..."

"I'm so...?"

"Infuriating," Felix says. 

"Thank you," Byleth says, unable to think of a proper response. Felix scowls. "I was born like this, you know. In regards to the matter of my heart, I mean."

"I don't know," Felix grumbles. "It's none of my business, but..."

Byleth waits for him to speak, but Felix only shakes his head and pushes away from Byleth without looking back at him.

Byleth will never understand his students, will he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TO YALL WHO WERE WONDERING WHO THE DANCER WAS GONNA BE I HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY YOU KNOW WHO YALL ARE IM SO PLEASED MYSELF DGDGDHDH IM VERY PREDICTABLE AREN'T I
> 
> a wild yuri appears! soon he'll be very plot important ;) i really need to replay the dlc to get a better hold on this very pretty dude i still can't believe i beat that dlc on hard i wonder what it's like in maddening 
> 
> next chapter of godspeed: everyone wants to dance with byleth! felix wishes he wasn't here! people show up and sothis is not happy! byleth has accidentally amassed bodyguards! claude would really like to have a certain conversation with someone! look forward to it!
> 
> i recently uploaded my ikesoren oneshot! if u are interested in ikesoren go ahead and give it a read if u so desire 
> 
> gosh it feels like it's been forever since ive written byleth gosh
> 
> I PROMISE ILL REPLY TO THE COMMENTS I DIDNT REPLY TO YET PROMISE
> 
> thank you so very much for reading ♡
> 
> byleth/dimitri B rank  
byleth/dedue B rank  
byleth/felix B rank  
byleth/annette B rank  
byleth/ingrid B rank  
byleth/sylvain B rank  
byleth/mercedes B rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt B rank  
byleth/ferdinand B rank  
byleth/lysithea B rank  
byleth/cyril C+ rank  
byleth/flayn B rank  
byleth/caspar B rank  
byleth/dorothea C+ rank
> 
> byleth/jeritza C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/sothis A rank  
byleth/claude C+ rank  
byleth/yuri ??? rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea C+ rank


	40. winter with you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOAH CHAPTER 40 THAT'S PRETTY WILD gosh yall if you're here thank u so so much for reading up to this point
> 
> okay funny story- the power in my neighborhood went out and i was like 'ah it wont last long lol' and i like to have something playing quietly in the background when i write and so i waited for the power to come back on and then i woke up like TWO HOURS LATER AND STARTED FREAKING OUT CAUSE I WRITE SOME OF GODSPEED WITHIN THE WEEK AND THEN I WRITE THE BULK ON SUNDAYS ALWAYS 
> 
> so anyway i wrote like 3000 words in one and a half hours which may or may not explain the quality of this chapter dgdhhdd

The aroma of chamomile tea hangs in the air like a particularly pleasant cloud. Byleth breathes in deeply, closing his eyes. Today, his brewing seemed excellent, moreso than usual. Perhaps it was the weather. Despite the fact that it was winter, it was mild this year. Whenever Byleth steps out from the academy and into the market the people whisper that it is all because of the goddess' return to the earth.

There are rumors of pilgrimages simply to see her. It is quite hard for Byleth to place Sothis and the goddess of Fódlan in the same category, so he finds it quite odd.

"I am the goddess," Sothis whines, from inside his head. She has spent the past couple of days simply floating around in his consciousness, dreary due to the fact that she was constantly being chased around for some reason or another.

Before Byleth can spill tea all over the table, he emerges from his thoughts. "How much sugar?" Byleth asks, pleased that two of the most important people in his life were sharing tea.

"Don't need any," Jeralt says, nodding at his son.

Byleth nods at him, cheerful, although it does not show on his face. "And you?"

Dimitri nearly knocks over the tower of pastries with his hand when he swivels his entire body around to look at him. "You're fine- I'M FINE. I'm fine."

Sothis snorts so loud Byleth wonders if Dimitri can hear him. Perhaps not, and yet the shade of Dimitri's face made a compelling argument otherwise.

"Alright," Byleth replies, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. Dimitri's eyes trail up to his face and lingers somewhere around his neck. His father and Sothis cough simultaneously.

When his father takes out a flask, presumably to top off his tea, Byleth glares at him until he sheepishly casts it aside.

"Professor, why have you invited the captain and I for tea?" Dimitri asks, stirring a spoon around in his cup. "You won't sit with us?"

"I want my father to speak with you about something," Byleth replies, wiping at the small droplets of tea threatening to topple from the tea pot's spout. He looks at his father with an expectant gaze until the light of recognition shines in his eyes.

Sighing, Byleth's father takes a huge gulp of his tea, slamming the tea cup down with so much force Byleth feels anxiety rise in his chest. He dutifully refills his father's cup and steps back from their table.

"I am going to leave so you two can speak about feelings," Byleth says, Dimitri staring after him with a very confused face. He turns around and walks into a bush that the Blue Lions had shoved themselves in and only raises a brow at them when they squeak in surprise.

"H-how did you...? How did you know?" Annette demands, barely a whisper.

Sothis rolls her eyes when Byleth gently shushes her with a finger over his mouth.

They settle in to the bush and watch the most awkward silence descend upon the unlikely pair. 

Jeralt reaches for a pastry that practically overflowed with some sort of berry filling and gestures for Dimitri to do the same. Fidgeting in his seat, the prince shakes his head.

"So," Jeralt begins. "Here we are again."

"Here we are," Dimitri agrees, more of a statement rather than a proper response. "Did you... Perhaps, did you have any business with me?"

"Byleth's been worried about you," Jeralt cuts in lazily, licking sugar and jam from his fingers before reaching for a small tart. "That's why we're here. But I can't say that I'm not worried about you, either."

Dimitri's face looks a little lost, before suddenly all emotion is wiped from his face, save for a pleasantly unpleasant one that makes Felix scowl and Byleth raise an eyebrow. "I really don't understand what you mean," Dimitri tells him, evenly. He does not twitch, does not make any sort of nervous gesture that would reveal something incriminating about him. "I am fine."

Jeralt tilts his head. "Yeah, okay, you can pull that shit with everyone but me, alright kid?"

"I really don't know-"

"There's a couple of guys in my mercenary company, like you, I think," Jeralt cuts him off, after a huge bite of his dessert. "But to name one- the man was really, really young, barely older than Byleth at the time, when his entire family was wiped out by bandits in front of his eyes. They were farmers, and although pitchforks and hoes are potentially dangerous in the wrong hands, they were unprepared. He was locked inside a closet by one o' the members of his family and when we got there to get rid of them one of our guys opened the closet and he leapt out with a knife, shaking and crying so badly he could barely get a hit in."

Jeralt gazes off into the distance, unseeing, before he shakes his head as if to shake himself of that memory. "Anyway, due to such a tragedy, often he has nightmares, violent ones where he cries and kicks himself awake. He calls for them still, even though it's been years and years. And I'm gonna go out on a limb here- you're alike with that man, huh? I heard about the Tragedy of Duscur, and everything in between."

Dimitri, for his part, looks to be equal parts enraptured and closed off by the story. "...Why are you telling me this?"

Jeralt shrugs. "No staff in the world can cure something like that," Byleth's father tells him, pouring himself more tea. "But we did come up with a few things that could help that man out that may or may not help you."

Dimitri stares past Jeralt, somewhere Byleth cannot see. When he focuses back on Jeralt, a shadow seems to be hanging over him, the same shadow that had plagued Byleth's dreams. "What is your point?" Dimitri asks, coldly. "You can't take me back in time and kill whoever did this to them, can you?"

Byleth wants to shield his face and turn away.

Unaffected by his tone, Jeralt takes a sip of tea and sighs. "My point," Jeralt says. "Is that talking about it can't be more harmful than anything else. You're gonna drive yourself mad, kid. Keeping everything to yourself is going to land you in an early grave."

"I would rather not talk and reminisce about the mass murder of my family," Dimitri says, almost cheery, after a sip of tea.

Jeralt shrugs. "Fine by me. But can we try something else?"

"What?"

Byleth's father puts a hand to his chin. "Let's see, what did that guy..." A moment passes before he speaks up once more. "So, let's try this. Everytime you have one of those nightmares, awake or asleep, or have a violent or otherwise intrusive thought, write it down. And with your permission, every five days or so I look over those words-"

Dimitri flinches so hard he nearly falls from his chair. "-or you can give me the general basis of them, and we set that page on fire. Then, we have a conversation. How 'bout it?"

The prince smiles at him, as cold as the winter months. "I haven't agreed to do anything yet- and besides. I'll be writing every single second of my life, if I do such a thing."

Jeralt shrugs. "Just a suggestion. But it's better than wallowing in thoughts for the rest of your life."

Dimitri stares at him, searching his face for something. After a brief moment of silence, the prince nods to himself. He looks years and years older than he looks.

"...I'll try," Dimitri murmurs. "But this won't sate me."

Jeralt shakes his head at him. "If you think that from the start, then nothing will happen. Well. Can't blame ya, kiddo. But you gotta make an effort."

"...Fine."

Byleth sighs, shoulders relaxing. He watches the Blue Lions sigh, too. Even his father looks a bit more pleased. "Good on you, kid." Jeralt says. "Have a pastry."

Jeralt pushes the desserts closer to Dimitri and Dimitri stares at a small slice of chocolate cake without a word. When he finally picks it up, his hand shakes in the air. Without setting it down on a plate, Dimitri takes a bite out of it like it was finger food, and slowly, the tense line of his shoulders relaxes. It's barely there, but it is there nonetheless. 

Dedue's breath of relief fills Byleth's lungs with new courage.

.

"It sure is a beautiful day," Claude says, squinting out into the gloomy gray rain splattering onto the sides of the greenhouse. Byleth watches as in seconds, the drops of rain turn to snow with a sudden drop in temperature.

"Just lovely," Hilda agrees, with a soft sigh. She drapes herself over Byleth and he jostles ever so slightly, water splashing out the sides of the watering can that he was holding. "Wouldn't you agree, professor? Simply stunning weather."

Byleth chances a look back outside and sees that the snow has begun to rise at an alarming rate. "It sure is weather," Byleth informs them, drier than his plants if he didn't get to watering them soon.

Carefully, he tips out a few splashes of water on the flowers and crops that need it, eyes forming half moons in pleasure at the sight of healthy plants. 

Byleth moves to refill the watering can when Claude drapes himself over Byleth's other side. Byleth hardly spares him a glance. "Claude, the flowers need water," he tells him.

"Of course, of course," Claude says, with a lilt that says that he simply does not care at the moment. "I just want to bask in the presence of my savior and dear best friend, is that so hard to ask?"

Byleth gently shrugs them off and moves over to a basin of water, dipping the can inside. "Give me a moment before I pay full attention," Byleth tells them, staring down at his plants. He murmurs quiet things to them. Father had told him that his mother said that plants appreciated being spoken to, or even sung to, so speak he shall.

Claude and Hilda stay mercifully silent until Byleth sets down the watering can onto a barrel. "There, I am finished," he says. "What is it?"

In a rare show of attentiveness, Hilda points to the large flowers in the corner. "What about those ones, professor?"

Byleth warms at the sight of them. "Oh. Those flowers are from Duscur, and do not require constant watering lest you wish for them to wilt."

"I see," Hilda says pleasantly, and then her face turns a variety of different reds as she seems to explode with what she wants to demand. "Professor please please please please teach us for the day Claude's going absolutely nuts with guilt for some reason and he's actually seriously-"

Her mouth is promptly muffled by a hand. "Haha," Claude laughs. "Ignore her," he tells Byleth solemnly, as she screams behind his hand. 

Byleth stares at the duo before deciding to shift his eyes to the sky. "What about professor Hanneman?"

Hilda frees herself from Claude's grasp with a wild cry and swats at him with great fury and ample viciousness. "CLAUDE!" Hilda yells, and then spends precious seconds attempting to bring herself back together and to fix her hair from disarray. "Goddess, you absolute- best friend of mine! ANYWAY. PROFESSOR." Hilda sends Claude a look that promises that whatever Byleth had missed between them was absolutely not over.

"Yes?"

Hilda clears her throat. "Professor Hanneman's busy pretending like he hasn't been stalking your, uh, goddess, for the past couple of weeks. Recently he was a real creep and took a hairbrush and-"

"He somehow procured some of her hair," Claude cuts in, looking sheepish, "and hasn't been out of his office since."

Byleth's face scrunches up. Sothis really did indeed have the need to jump back inside his head occasionally. He absolutely could not blame her, especially if people were taking samples of her. He's just surprised Sothis hasn't struck them with a meteor, or perhaps a bolt of lightning.

"I don't mind," Byleth says, as they walk past the Golden Deer classroom and its students fall out from the door they were listening in from. Byleth becomes a little bit more fond when he realizes how similar they were acting to the Blue Lions. "Bring a couple of your seats, though. I do not believe that we have enough."

The Golden Deer scurry into their classroom and bring the benches that they have, two students on either side of one bench.

"Excuse me," Byleth calls, into the Blue Lions' classroom. "Can two of you come out and hold the door open for the other students."

Byleth thinks that he hears 'the other _what?!_' from the other side of the door and steps away to see his own students peek out of the classroom with squinty eyes.

"Well, well well," Claude greets, carrying a bench by himself because Hilda has yet to forgive him and because she wouldn't carry the other side even if she had. "If it isn't the bluest of lions."

Silence.

Byleth looks between the two groups and wonders why the temperature has dropped.

Ingrid turns to Byleth with a look. "Uh, professor, I'm pretty sure that they have their own house and professor."

"And yet, here we are." Claude says, cheerful. "It's very annoying, isn't it?"

They stare between each other until Claude turns to Byleth and forces the most abrupt change in subject Byleth has ever heard, and he tried to distract from the goddess quite literally escaping and vacating a body to ignore her own daughter for an unknown, mysterious reason.

"Do you like traveling for leisure?" Claude asks, pointedly, the scrape of the chair grating until Byleth picks up the other side. Somehow, the temperature becomes colder, despite the fact that it was a milder winter.

"Mm," Byleth hums. "If I chose somewhere to go, it would be anywhere as long as my father and our mercenary band is there."

Claude, from seemingly nowhere, throws an arm around his shoulders, dropping his side of the chair. "So if I invite them back home you'll come?"

The Blue Lions turn and glare at him.

"Sure."

"WHAT?!" They demand, all in surprising synchronization. 

Claude's smile somehow becomes brighter, completely ignoring the dark aura hanging around his head. "Great!"

"Do you have good fishing locations?" Byleth asks, watching Claude's grin become more bold. He is about to open his mouth, when the chair, still half in Byleth's hands, levitates into the air and effectively cutting off any possible thought process in Byleth's head.

"Oh, that is brilliant," Byleth says, and then tacks on, "Sothis."

The goddess in question rolls her eyes and makes the benches that they were intending to place inside the classroom float with an envious ease. Everyone stares at her, and her glare becomes worse. "Don't you have a spell for this?" Sothis asks.

Byleth shakes his head. "Not really."

Sothis sighs. "We'll discuss this later. Can all of you get inside the class and stop this commotion?"

The Golden Deer duck their heads and run inside, and the Blue Lions run back to their seats. When Byleth looks at Sothis, she makes swatting gestures at him until he goes inside and shuts the door behind him.

"You should go inside, too," Sothis says, narrowing her eyes at the one boy who had yet to leave.

"Are you having fun?" Claude asks.

"Excuse me?"

The boy pushes off of the wall he was leaning on, youthful arrogance and disdain dripping from him in waves. "Are you having fun playing house like this?" Claude asks. "You don't have a castle in the sky, or anything like that?"

Sothis blinks at him, once, and then a second time, very slowly.

"You're using Teach, aren't you. All of you. The Archbishop, your children- everyone."

Sothis stares at Claude. She can't help herself. The goddess throws her head back and laughs outright, the sound like wind chimes in the air. She has to wipe at her eyes before replying. 

"You really are unaware," Sothis says, hands now to her lips. "I believed you thought yourself a genius sleuth of some kind, but I suppose even I am wrong at times."

"Are you denying it?" Claude asks.

Sothis sighs. "You should run along before you get involved," Sothis tells him, full of disdain. This boy didn't seem to care enough to dig deeper or to interrogate anyone until Byleth was injured on his behalf. Yet. She supposes that it has not been five years, and that the man she had seen on other paths and lifetimes had yet to blossom. "This is bigger than you know, far more immense than yourself. You shouldn't get involved, at least for Byleth's sake. Just stay on the sides and be content with what you know."

In a show of Claude's young age, he flusters visibly and frowns. "What are you talking about?"

The goddess ticks off her fingers. "You're curious about me, the Archbishop, my children, the Crests, and how they all relate to Byleth, right? I'm telling you nicely to stay in whatever business involves you. But I do suppose that you are the type to not be satisfied unless you see the board from all sides, correct?"

Claude watches her with the eyes of an individual that does not know whether or not they are predator or prey. "I'll take away some of the fun for you, then," Sothis continues, distant and absentminded. "I did not create the Crest system. Nor do I intend on allowing it to control the lives of individuals any longer. I did not bestow Crests upon any individual."

The boy looks thrown. Sothis sighs, picking at her nails and wanting to be anywhere but here.

"I shall educate you," Sothis says, "you should rally with others sharing your beliefs and educate yourself not because you hate the church and the Archbishop, but because you want to save the people oppressed by it, as well as by the Crest system, and because you want to change the system that some have built upon it. There is a big difference, and it is one that creates the line between you, and a certain person."

It is Claude's turn to blink at her. "Wait, hold up, slow down," Claude says, shaking his head and making frantic hand gestures. "Hold on, what? Are we on the same pages here? Did I hear you right? You didn't create the Crests- what the-"

Sothis waits for him to compose himself. Claude runs a hand through his hair, the other twitching as if wanting to frantically jot down notes and theories.

"Okay," Claude says. "What do you mean by rally people? Others, too? What- Why are you telling me this?"

"Okay, I shall repeat myself for you," Sothis says, growing impatient and wanting to stamp her foot childishly. "The people of Fódlan are not an afterthought. Hate me, hate the Archbishop, hate the Crests and the church and the knights. But are you acting and researching because of that hate or because you truly desire change? You cannot say that you wish to save the people and then act at your leisure in every other aspect, or vice versa."

Claude parts his lips. "How did you know what I-"

"I can read minds, but that's not important." Sothis says, lazily.

"You sound like..." Claude trails off, for a moment. "You sound like you hate the Crest system! So why aren't you-"

"Doing anything about it?" Sothis asks. "Young Claude. Change does not happen over night. And just because you are unaware of something does not mean that it is not occurring right under your nose."

Claude stares at the goddess, looking lost. "I... So, what? You want to destroy the church system? No, wait. Not the church itself, but- You sound really... You sound as if you would like someone to help you in this... Why in the...? What's your motive, here?"

Sothis looks him up and down.

"Khalid of Almyra," Sothis says, gazing upon Claude with old eyes. "One day, all of the secrets of this land will be spread out before your eyes. Whether you can be trusted with that information- yet remains to be seen. How the Crest system came to be, who used it in their favor- well. I will not say too much."

For some reason, Claude is struck with an emotion he cannot describe- as if something, someone- older than time was gazing into his soul, his future, his entire being. He has to fight the urge to kneel.

"I'm looking forward to your future," Sothis informs him casually. "I wonder who will you become, this time."

The words ring oddly, in his ears.

"At least answer me this," Claude says, hands fidgeting at his sides. "Why haven't you done anything about Edelgard yet? I know that you are aware of her identity as the Flame Emperor, so why? And, you said that you don't want me involved in any of this, right? Why tell me so much? Why hint at an uprising of the system?"

The goddess hums, lazily. 

"Isn't it more fun to figure that out yourself?" Sothis grins at him, all teeth, just as Byleth opens the door again and frowns at them.

"Sothis? Claude?" Byleth asks, confused by the tension between them.

Claude startles at the sound of his name. "I have to- I have to go!" Claude exclaims, running off to the library with thoughts bouncing around his brain. If he didn't get them down soon, he would go mad. "Teach, start class without me!"

Byleth watches him go. "Everything alright?" He asks, directing his question to Sothis.

"Never better," Sothis says. "Just trying to see if a theory will work."

"Will it?" Byleth asks, staring off at Claude's retreating back, a little confused. "We still have class... Claude is really confusing..."

Sothis giggles a little. "Is he, now?"

.

Byleth is in the middle of being dipped by Sylvain when Sothis bursts into their classroom, muttering to herself and chewing on her lower lip nearly hard enough to draw blood.

The Blue Lions had pushed back all of the chairs, benches, and desks from the center of the room to create a makeshift area to dance in. Annette had pulled Felix to the center and began to hum to a song, which made the boy strangely pliant to her whims. They danced around in circles, and soon Felix was coerced into dancing with everyone, including a sheepish Dimitri.

Dimitri had stepped on Felix's toes on accident, which in turn made Felix stomp on Dimitri's foot, and it created a cycle in which they attempted to make their graceless movements possess poise and elegance, because Dimitri was oddly intent on becoming a better dancer, and because Felix wanted to step on his toes.

Cyril and Flayn were busy tripping all over themselves, laughing at their inexperience together. Byleth tries not to think about how sulky Seteth would become if he knew.

With a bashful expression, Ashe had approached Byleth and asked if he wanted to dance together. How could Byleth refuse? He spent several minutes spinning Ashe around on his toes until the boy was breathless with laughter. Dedue had asked Byleth as well, and they had swayed together in silence, but in a companionable, pleasant one.

Sylvain had quite literally picked up Byleth and stolen him away, dipping him every opportunity he could and laughing freely at the sight of Byleth's face staying completely blank.

He had only stopped when Sothis had arrived, looking distraught.

"We need to get you fitted, too," Sothis says, in lieu of a greeting, narrowing her eyes at him. "Your regular armor and the slightly more fancy capes and mantles that are just slightly more decent than the ones that you wear to kill people will not cut it. You need to look like you belong at my side."

Byleth points at his hair. The goddess rolls her eyes at him. "Must I?" Byleth asks. _Last time I wore my armor._

Sothis shakes her head. "I've opened the ball up to the public, so our dress code has changed. It will be a requirement for, at the very least, for semi formal attire."

The Blue Lions begin to chatter excitedly. In his past life, while the students were allowed to wear makeup and do something fancy with their hair, they were still required to wear a uniform. But if the ball had suddenly changed because of Sothis...

"We get to wear dresses?!" Annette exclaims excitedly, stopping mid twirl.

"We get to wear... Dresses?" Ingrid repeats, a stricken expression on her face.

Mercedes, who was spinning Annette, claps her hands together in glee. "Ribbons, frills, and lace, too!"

"Ribbons... Frills... Lace..." Ingrid says, with a voice as if her soul had departed from her body.

"You can still wear your uniform," Sothis says. "But a few guests may or may not be coming, which is why we have to change the dress code."

"Who?" Byleth asks, as Sylvain pulls him into a another twirl. 

Sothis turns to Dimitri with an unreadable expression. "Your uncle has wanted to... pay his respects to me for the longest time, and his journey and arrival, if there is any, may correlate to the dates of the ball."

Dimitri's uncle. Byleth tilts his head thoughtfully, and then just as suddenly remembers that Dimitri's was the current holder of the crown. 

The prince frowns, and then attempts to wipe that expression from his face. Felix notices it, and his scowl becomes even more prominent.

"It's not confirmed, however," Sothis says.

Ingrid bites back a groan. "So I _have_ to be presentable, then. Just in case."

"So, my father will likely be there," Felix groans.

The smile on Sylvain's face stretches thin. "Perhaps my dear old dad too."

Silence.

"This is so exciting!" Lysithea blurts. "I don't believe that I was ever able to attend an event like this!" Her eyes sparkle, and the mood set by an announcement of this guest suddenly changes at her enthusiasm.

"Lysithea, do not fret!" Ferdinand announces. "I, Ferdinand von Aegir, will educate you on how noble balls and events-"

"Do I have to go," Linhardt asks. Neatly everyone jolts at the sound of his voice, thinking him to be asleep at one of the desks.

"Yes," Byleth says.

Linhardt practically face plants onto his desk, head down.

"But back to the attire," Sothis says, contemplative. "We have to get you fitted for something nice, Byleth. You aren't allowed to wear anything you already have in your dresser."

"Not the white robes again," Byleth says, almost a whine.

"Again?" Sothis asks, and sifts through his brain for a moment before bursting out into abhorrent laughter. "Oh my- I cannot believe- AHAHA!" The reminder of the 'Enlightened' robes and how awkward Byleth felt in such bright attire seemed like mere memories of the past, and that is where Byleth wished for them to stay.

Byleth refuses to blush. "What robes," Sylvain demands, almost frantic. "I have to know. What white robes?"

"Black, please," Byleth begs, ignoring his student. "Not white."

"I agree," Sothis says, distantly. "Black is your colour." She snaps her fingers and suddenly his clothes have changed.

Byleth is suddenly in a long, oversized black robe, the sleeves massive and the amount of chest he was showing even moreso. From his belly button, everything above was exposed to the air. The students squeak at the sight of him, and Byleth is reminded of what Indech was wearing when Sothis forced him into an outfit. Simple, and yet utterly revealing.

"I like this one," Sylvain says, cheerful. "AND SO DOES HIS HIGHNESS!"

For those words, he is granted a swift kick.

Sothis makes some weird gesture with her hands that make Byleth understand that she is not satisfied. "Well," she begins, eyes narrow. "Perhaps a white cape. And not these robes. Something more... Formal..."

Byleth's outfit changes. A black coat, with golden buttons and white sleeves, and a golden sash draped upon him, diagonal. Two golden tassels kept a cape snug on his back, the fur trim white, and the fabric itself black. Black slacks, with a slightly darker tone of embroidery, and shiny shoes. His gloves had changed colour, from black to white with golden trim.

"This is too much," Byleth says, looking down at himself.

"This isn't enough," Sothis mutters, at the exact same time. They stare at each other blankly.

"I think you look amazing, professor!" Dorothea says, expression appraising. At the approval of his students and the whistling courtesy of Sylvain, Byleth reluctantly relents. 

"This is great and all," Ingrid says, "but how are we going to get proper clothes on such short notice? I wouldn't want us to be potentially presented in front of his Majesty and look drab."

"Goddess forbid my father finds out that I have been chosen for the cup," Felix mutters.

"I have money," Dimitri offers innocently, with a raised hand. The Blue Lions stare at him as if the prince had descended from heaven in a halo of golden light. Sylvain immediately throws an arm around him, using the other hand to ruffle his hair.

"Well now, your Highness," Sylvain teases. "Since when did you have access to the royal treasury?"

Dimitri parts his lips, and no sound comes out before he seems to settle on a few words. "I am not sure that I am comfortable answering that question."

Annette turns her big, innocent eyes onto Sothis, who balks at the attention. "Miss goddess," Annette says cheerily. "Is it possible that you are capable of dressing us up like how you did with Byleth?"

Sothis looks for Byleth for some reason. Perhaps for support? Byleth has no intention of offering such a thing, however- he is quite pleased that one of his students has taken the initiative to speak with the goddess of their own volition.

The goddess makes a grunting noise when Byleth turns away, very obviously.

In lieu of an answer, Sothis waves a hand over Annette, and suddenly she is in a ball gown- light blue, with ribbons down the gusset, puffed sleeves, and a skirt that seems to glow without light dancing upon it, puffed up by a white petticoat just visible under the blue top of the skirt.

Annette stares down at herself, slack jawed. Sothis doesn't look pleased. She waves her hand again, and Annette is in a different dress, white and orange with long sleeves. "No," Sothis says, biting down on her thumb. Annette's dress turns a seafoam green, with a trail of sheer blue fabric at her back. "Hmm. Maybe not."

"You're like the fairy from that tale about the pumpkin farm lass," Ashe blurts, and then slaps both hands over his mouth, face blushing wildly behind them. 

"Pumpkin...?" Sothis asks, confused, and then shakes her head. "Never mind. If you want me to make you an outfit, please raise your hand."

The Blue Lions all raise their hand. Despite the fact that many of them did have a lot of money, it was more convenient and much more cheap to get clothes from the goddess herself, especially since it was already tailored with them in mind.

Sothis sighs. "Okay, let's finish with Annette, and then we move on to the little princeling, for his outfit may be the most important."

Byleth stares down at himself. "Sothis, can I please get my armor back?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I REALLY THOUGHT THAT I WAS GONNA FIT THE BEGINNING OF THE CUP IN HERE BUT SOTHIS AND CLAUDE TALKED FOR WAY TOO LONG
> 
> next chapter! the white heron cup and the ball are finally here! and absolutely NOTHING goes wrong trust me! absolutely nothing!
> 
> dude i cannot wait to write this next chapter lol. i fucking hate the Enlightened outfit so much especially female byleths one it is so fucking ugly i can't stand it the male one is slightly better but i dont believe it suits any of them lol
> 
> despite the fact that i uh totally fucked up the pacing of his chapter lol i still hope that you enjoyed 
> 
> thank you so very much for reading ♡
> 
> byleth/dimitri B rank  
byleth/dedue B rank  
byleth/felix B rank  
byleth/annette B rank  
byleth/ingrid B rank  
byleth/sylvain B rank  
byleth/mercedes B rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt B rank  
byleth/ferdinand B rank  
byleth/lysithea B rank  
byleth/cyril C+ rank  
byleth/flayn B rank  
byleth/caspar B rank  
byleth/dorothea C+ rank
> 
> byleth/jeritza C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/sothis A rank  
byleth/claude C+ rank  
byleth/yuri ??? rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea C+ rank


	41. golden night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello you gorgeous individuals! is everyone staying safe and healthy and drinking water? i hope so
> 
> ooh i wanted to get this chapter to 7k but i was like NAH i already shoved so much into this chapter and i totally did shove a lotta shit into this chapter dhdhdhhd
> 
> yall im sorry about the confusion last chapter ill put a paragraph or two that i forgot about how sothis just wants to chill whether it's outside or inside of byleths head she literally just does what she wants lol ill do it when my heads back on straight lol
> 
> hope that you enjoy this one ;)

In Byleth's past life, things such as caring about what he wore, whether or not it look good on him, and when he should change up his style were not at the forefront of his mind. Not when he was primarily a mercenary, not when he was a professor running around and finding lost items and drinking tea, and especially not when he was drawing up tactical maps in a war.

If he were to be somewhat attentive to his clothes, they would have to be in a light material that did not scratch his skin or impede any of his movements, and it would have to be black, for mud and blood stains were not prominent upon the colour.

Clothes certainly were important, but for Byleth, something like being made up as a doll for the enjoyment of his students was not something he would consider to be a hobby, much less anything he would ever imagined himself doing.

Much less Felix.

The boy in question looks very out of his element. Hair flying everywhere out of his usual bun, eyes surprised and confused, miles and miles and varying shades of fabric with various designs and materials brought up to his face to match his complexion. Golden buttons and embellishments turn silver, and then black, and then disappear, and then reappear to turn a shiny copper. Bracelets with lengths of sheer fabric wrap around his wrists, his necks, his ankles, and then make themselves scarce.

"No," Sothis says, hand to her chin. Her eyes are flicking across Felix, glowing softly. "That's not your colour, no. Absolutely not. Red looks awful on you, it does not go with your complexion, no."

Byleth actually cannot believe that they are picking out a dancer's outfit for Felix when he hasn't even won. Yet. If he didn't win, which Byleth highly doubted, he would absolutely use every single one of his Divine Pulses, and he was utterly serious about that fact. If there was one thing their entire house shared in common, it was the absolutely absurd amount of hatred that they possessed for losing in anything. Some were more subtle about it, but due to Byleth and to an extent, Felix, there was not a single person in their class that would be satisfied with anything but victory.

Sylvain scoots his chair closer to where Sothis is floating the tiniest bit off of the floor, probably unintentionally. She looks so focused, she hardly realizes that the boy is even there. "Dark blue and silver would look nice," Sylvain says, thoughtfully. "We need to take into account the shade of his hair, and the length of the skirt, and so on."

For a moment, Sothis doesn't react, making Byleth think that she hasn't heard. "Felix, what do you feel about dark blue." Felix takes a breath. "Perfect," Sothis says, cutting off whatever he was meant to say.

Mid air, a length of fabric tears itself from reality and brings up various shades of dark blue. Some shimmer and ripple like water, and others are more rich in colour, and have a certain depth to the colour that Byleth is instantly taken by.

"Gold, maybe, instead of silver," Sylvain says, eyes focused on Felix too. 

"Shut up!" Felix snaps, reaching for a sword that was not attached to his hips. Scowling, he brings up his hands as if he were about to brawl Sylvain.

"I think gold would suit him, too," Annette chimes in. At her bright voice and words, Felix slowly lowers his fists. When she turns, however, he shoots Sylvain a very inappropriate gesture, which Sylvain returns with a blown kiss.

Byleth, sensing the tension in the air, hurries to stop Sothis. "Hey, aren't you done? Didn't we decide on a blue motif?"

She whirls on him and her eyes are so fierce Byleth is surprised that he is not set aflame. Sothis parts her lips, and then shuts them quickly, folding her arms across her chest. "You never let me dress you up," Sothis says, with a pout.

"You like bright green dresses that show far too much skin for my liking," Byleth replies. It wasn't so much about the dress part, but he was not so sure about wearing something that showed his navel, his nipples, and his thighs.

Apparently Sothis' amused jeers and the squeaks and squeals from his students said otherwise. Perhaps he could look into it. If his enemies were distracted by the sight of his bare skin, perhaps some battles would be much easier. Byleth makes a mental note to apply it sometime in the future.

Some individuals would indeed refuse to draw their weapon to a beautiful person. 

Conceding the point, Sothis waves her hand and the army of fabric, embellishments, and sashes fade into the air. Felix immediately runs out of the room, scowling all the while. Byleth nods at his self preservation.

Sylvain sighs. "He didn't even take the outfit we decided on."

"Sent it to his room," Sothis tells him, casually, as if such a spell wasn't entirely unheard of.

Linhardt looks up from his desk, eyes bright. "How did you do that, Sothis?" Linhardt is the only one of his students that is bold enough to refer to her by name. Byleth has heard 'the goddess,' 'miss goddess,' and so on and so forth. Sothis blatantly ignores him.

"Thank you for the dress," Mercedes says, to fill the silence. She smooths the front down on a lavender ballgown tucked into her arms, careful not to rumple the fabric, and then bows slightly. Sothis waves her away.

"It's not a problem," Sothis scoffs, but Byleth can see her ears turn a delightful shade of red. He shoots Mercedes a tiny smile, and suddenly she's pink too. "Now, shoo. Isn't your dinner soon?"

Byleth is pleased at their interactions thus far. Although Dorothea pretends that Sothis isn't in the room sometimes, and Dimitri can hardly look at her head on, most of the students have warmed somewhat to her presence. He suspects that it has something to do with their sudden body change, but what exactly, he has no idea.

The Blue Lions are whispering loudly among themselves as they place their desks back, waving at Byleth as they go. 

"Ah, hm... Lysithea?" Sothis calls, suddenly. The girl in question turns around, white hair a cascade of snow around her shoulders. "That is your name, yes?"

Lysithea scrunches up her nose at the nonchalant address but hastily fixes her expression when she realizes who has called upon her. "That... is my name, yes. Do you have any business with me, miss goddess?"

Instead of answering her, Sothis tilts her chin up at Byleth and grins at him behind thin fingers. Byleth silently hopes that nothing happens in his absence. "Byleth?"

"Yes?"

"Close the door on your way out."

The goddess' voice is dismissive, and she flicks a hand out at him as if to push him away. Lysithea turns around and shoots pleading eyes at Byleth, and Byleth sends her a helpless look before Sothis actually levitates him out of the room and slams the door shut. He can barely see Lysithea's surprised expression before the room is forcefully closed off.

.

"Ladies and gentlemen! My sincerest apologies for the wait! Thank you so much for gathering here on the eve of the highly anticipated ball to bear witness to..."

Alois pauses very dramatically, allowing their audience to stomp their feet to create a fast beat of anticipation. "The academy-wide dance competition! Welcome, one and all, to the White Heron Cup!"

Byleth has to brace himself against the wild screams and cheers from the Blue Lions. Byleth feels their excited bouncing around and their near wild cheering make him feel as if he is losing his hearing at a very young age. He is squished between Dedue and Dimitri, who were also infected by the wave of cheer, and they join in the amusement with calls of their own. Students, staff, priests, knights, and even his father and their mercenary group have gathered. Byleth hardly remembers the thrall of people from his last life, for he was too busy mentally willing Felix to emerge victorious.

Sothis sits in his head, endlessly amused. They've decided on a compromise- to leave her body in Byleth's room when she so desired to leave it, and barricade and lock the door heavily so that Hanneman would not try anything strange.

"Felix, he's our man, if he can't do it, nobody can!" Annette sings. The rhythm is simple and the line is easy to remember, so soon most of the Blue Lions are chanting it, stomping their feet and clapping their hands.

The _man_ in particular is trying their very best to become one with the wall. Sothis chuckles at the sight.

"I see we've got some favorites in the crowd tonight," Alois booms, practically vibrating in place with the energy. Byleth tilts his head. It is noon. "Now, then! The competition will be judged by... me! Your humble servant, Alois Rangeld! And also..."

He waits for the crowd to create the same drumming sound. "The acclaimed former songstress of the Mittlefrank Opera Company, Manuela.... CASAGRANDA!!!"

Byleth shuts his eyes. Rather than a dance competition, this reminds him more of the unsavoury brawls he's witnessed as a mercenary- copper coins exchanging hands and names announced with jeers, circles of men shutting two combatants within a ring- amazing stuff, really.

"Yes, yes, thank you!" Manuela greets, waving a hand and blowing kisses with the other. "Oh! And it should go without saying, but I do swear to show no bias to my own house. Got it? Very good."

Alois points out the third judge with a flourish, and Byleth suddenly realizes that he's barely seen the woman at all.

"Last but not least, the glamorous assassin who does all of her dancing in the dead of night... Shamir Nevrand!" 

Shamir makes a grunt, eyes focused.

It wasn't as if they were close, but... Byleth fights the urge to bite down on his bottom lip. He's seen her in the halls, and they had a minute long introduction courtesy of Cyril, but they'd hardly interacted at all.

She could be a valuable ally. Byleth curses himself. 

Alois clears his throat. "The three of us swear on our honor to judge the following proceedings with utmost impartiality and fairness!" He makes a dramatic flourish with his hand. "And with that, will the representatives of each house please make their way to the stage!"

Felix is promptly peeled off from the wall by Sylvain and is gently pushed onto the floor. The boy covers his face with one hand as the Blue Lions stand from their seats and cheer his name. The room practically rings with the sound.

Byleth is pleasantly surprised when Felix pries his hand from his face and meets his eyes, making a determined face. Of course, the boy absolutely hated to lose.

Hilda stands from her seat, brushing invisible dust from her skirt. Claude cheers her name, and she does a mock curtsey back at him, laughing, before running to join Felix. Much to Byleth's endless surprise, Hubert takes his spot on the dance floor as well. 

The sight almost makes him snort. However, his other students don't share that same discretion, and Sylvain turns his own snort into a wild cough. Ferdinand, on the other side of Dedue, literally tucks his face into his shoulder and stifles a hearty chuckle. Hubert's sharp gaze snaps to him, and then focuses back on the judges.

"Contestants! Are you ready to dance? And is the band prepared to play?" Alois asks, thrumming with energy. 

Felix raises one hand up to his head, freeing his hair from the messy bun he always wears, and it tumbles down his shoulders. The sight would be more entrancing if he did not have the world's most intimidating scowl on his face, but it does nothing to deter the Blue Lions from going wild- cheering and screaming and false swooning- perhaps not false.

Alois grins over at them imperceptibly as Felix runs a hand through his hair. "Very well... BEGIN!"

The Blue Lions fall silent to allow the band to play properly. And they watch Felix dip into a deep bow.

Byleth smiles imperceptibly at Felix's dance routine. Quick steps, long, dramatic turns. He can practically see a sword in his hands, deft and sharp, as he whirls around. 

Sylvain whistles. "Didn't expect anything less," he comments, tossing his head so his bangs aren't in his eyes.

"Yes..." Dimitri agrees. "It is exactly like how he fights, save for the lack of a sword."

It was indeed, a proper dance, but it was more of a fight between the dancers rather than an actual duet. In his peripheral, he can see Hilda and Hubert thrown by Felix's dancing- as if he were the only one on that dance floor. 

Shamir nudges Alois with his elbow and he clears his throat. "TIME! That's all, folks!"

Felix immediately stops dancing, hardly panting. He quickly ties his hair back up and retreats behind an unhappy face. Byleth claps alongside the crowd, although perhaps clap would be a stretch for his students. Ashe was hollering so loudly Byleth could hear the strain in his voice, and Dorothea had the sort of look on her face that promised to corner Felix at a later date about his moves.

"Splendid! All three of you were fantastic! Now, let's hear what the judges have to say..." Alois says, cheerful as ever. 

"Oh my, let's see..." Manuela begins, looking thoughtful. "I suppose I have no choice but to vote for... The Blue Lion house! Keep practicing, and you could really shine out there!"

Predictably, the Blue Lions begin to scream again. Were this any other situation Byleth would wonder if they were in danger. 

Shamir wastes no time. "I vote for the Blue Lion house. The way you carried yourself was striking."

At this point Byleth really does believe that he is losing his hearing.

"Great feedback, both of you! Well then, let's see... Factoring in my own humble opinion... Yes!" Alois declares, clapping his hands together. "We have a winner! And I will announce who it is... right now! Without any delay! The winner of this year's White Heron Cup is..."

Byleth is very concerned. The Blue Lions have sucked in a breath. None of them are breathing.

"THE BLUE LION HOUSE!"

Byleth feels himself, too, become infected with their absolute delight. Standing from his seat, he cheers, but can hardly hear himself over the sea of energy that the Blue Lions create.

Felix immediately walks off the stage, head held high. "Are you happy now?" He demands, ignoring every attempt at a hug, a head pat, and any high fives.

But before Byleth can even say anything, a student breaks off from the crowd and steps in front of Felix with an expectant expression.

"Your Grace," a student greets, dipped in a curtsey. She looks flushed, and for a moment Byleth thinks to ask her if she feels unwell. "That was truly excellent. May I have the honor of asking you if you have an intended partner for the ball?"

The mood around some of the nobles drop, and they nervously look to Felix. Dimitri in particular, forgoing rudeness and propriety, looks as if he wants to cover the student's mouth with his hands.

Felix stares down at the girl, and his expression becomes so fierce Byleth thinks it may pierce wherever he looks.

"Absolutely not," Felix says, and stomps away.

The student's flush spreads down her neck, and suddenly Sylvain is there, smiling and taking her hand to place a kiss upon her knuckles. "Sorry about him," Sylvain tells her, with a lilt to his words. "I'm sure we'll have a much better time without him."

Even as Sylvain attempts to distract the girl with kind words and saccharine sweet compliments that drip from his tongue like syrup, his eyes do not stray from where Felix has departed from.

Ingrid sighs. "I'll go after him," she announces, and walks off in the direction Felix came.

"Your Grace?" Byleth repeats, confused.

Dimitri scratches at his cheek, eyes darting back and forth. "Felix was not ever prepared to be a duke," he says, quiet and soft. "Not ever. He thinks he's not suited. And he won't say it, but he thinks that Rodrigue thinks that he isn't suited, either. Every mention of the future dropped on his shoulders without warning leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, to say the least."

The prince gets a dark look on his face for a moment, before it disappears. Dedue frowns, having caught the expression. 

_Your Grace._ The title is odd even in his head. Byleth did not even know the difference between 'Your Highness' and 'Your Majesty' until he arrived at the academy.

Byleth remembers the fact that Felix has- had- an older brother, and tilts his head in contemplation. "I see. Well, in the time I've known him, he's never once been referred to by such a name, so I was rather confused."

Even though Sothis is not out of his head physically, he can practically feel the slap to the back of his head. 

The Blue Lions seem to find nothing wrong with that sentence, and continue to send worked glances to one another. "You wouldn't have," Dimitri says. "He won't tolerate even the slightest implication of it."

"I see," Byleth says. It is odd, to think of Felix as a duke in the first place. He did not even know what the duties of a duke entailed. Protect the people, yes. Did they defend borders, or was that a margrave's job? Or was that simply relegated to a simple soldier? Byleth vowed to read up on the material one day. 

The student Felix had stomped away from makes a small noise, like an excited squeal, as Sylvain leans down to whisper something in their ear. Annette makes a face of agreement. 

"I think Sylvain can handle this," Mercedes observes. 

Byleth sighs, and finally notices Alois, who has been apparently waving at him for the past several minutes. Raising a brow and the ends of his lips, he lifts the White Heron cup trophy into the air. It is a simple thing, save for the frankly stunning amount of detail on the metal wings. After taking their prize, Byleth decides to place it in their classroom, adjacent from where Felix usually sat.

.

There is a moment of deliberation where Byleth wipes at the trophy with his gloves, and when he steps out of the Blue Lions' classroom he quite literally bumps in to Ingrid.

"Eep!" Ingrid yelps, stumbling. Byleth hurries to catch her, grabbing her by both arms and waiting until she is steady.

"Forgive me, I did not know that you were there," Byleth apologizes, frowning ever so slightly. He frees her when she looks stable, and she wipes invisible dust from her skirt even though she had not hit the floor.

"It's alright, professor!" Ingrid says, smiling weakly. "It was my fault, for being distracted."

"Weren't you going after Felix?" Byleth asks.

Ingrid shakes her head, tilting her head in the direction that Felix had departed to. Byleth is not surprised to find that the training grounds were his first stop, after being angry.

"Sylvain caught up to me," Ingrid confesses, expression still odd. It seems as if she is surprised that Sylvain had offered to take her place in comforting Felix. "He put his hand on my shoulder, made a triumphant face, and then said something like 'I got this,' and left!"

For Sylvain's voice, she had dropped her tone an octave in order to copy him better, lilt mocking.

Byleth suddenly understands her worry. If Sylvain happened to say something insensitive, or something that Felix would not enjoy, the situation would perhaps become way worse.

"I can go check on them," Byleth says. Ingrid's shoulders relax, and she seems to deflate. 

"Would you?" Ingrid asks, sighing in relief. "Thank the goddess. Mercedes, Dorothea, and Annette are waiting for me. Apparently they're going to teach me how to do my makeup." She makes a face at the last word.

"Don't worry," Byleth says, nodding.

"You're the best, professor!" Ingrid declares, practically skipping off in the direction of the dorms. "I really, truly mean it!"

Byleth is rather curious about the nature of Felix and Sylvain's relationship himself. He is aware that they had some sort of romantic feelings for each other, in his future.

To be honest, he's quite excited to see how Sylvain somehow charmed Felix, of all people. They were apparently akin to the novels Ashe refused to admit that he read- childhood friends, with feelings that could develop into something more. Riveting material, really.

Luckily for Byleth, he spots Sylvain only now casually walking up to the training grounds, stride deliberately slow. Byleth wonders if he had fixed his hair before the meeting, or something along those lines.

As Sylvain pushes open the grand doors to the training halls, Byleth ducks in behind him before the doors can close completely and practically throws himself behind a pillar. Luckily for him, Felix does not look up from the training dummy that he was attempting to murder, and Sylvain only has eyes for the boy in front of him.

Sothis almost cries laughing as soon as she realizes that he's following his students secretly. "Tsk tsk," Sothis scolds, even though her eyes are bright with mischief and the knowledge of gossip. "Sneaking up on your students?"

_I am simply worried._

Sothis laughs, rolling her eyes. "Then go reveal yourself."

Byleth ignores her, which makes her hoot and holler in absolute glee.

"Felix," Sylvain calls, as Byleth ever so quietly ducks his head around the pillar. He's chosen a perfectly acceptable spot. They would have to squint and walk forward a bit to even see Byleth in the shadow of a pillar, while ducked behind another. "Hey, you. Everything alright?"

"Don't patronize me," Felix says, taking his sword and separating the head of the dummy from its shoulders. The straw head flies and rolls near Byleth's feet. 

"I'm not," Sylvain says, hands in the pockets of his trousers. "Are you alright?"

Instead of answering, Felix stomps his way to a new, untouched training dummy, and swings violently. The song of his sword rings out unpleasantly in the air, and Byleth winces. 

Sylvain watches him for a few more beats, and then sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "You know, Felix. Back when we were younger, you would always run to me whenever you had a problem- emotionally or otherwise."

"If you're going to spew shit about the past then just shut up and leave," Felix spits, gutting the training dummy and ripping out the sword so quickly straw flies everywhere. 

"He speaks!" Sylvain cheers, clapping his hands together. "And here I thought you would ignore me."

Felix rolls his eyes and presses on with his training. Satisfied that at the very least, he had elicited a response from the boy, Sylvain sits on the stone floor and observes the boy quietly, chin propping up on one hand. 

Byleth takes the time to observe Felix. His swordsmanship had always been rapid, fluid like water and stunning all the same, and yet in this lifetime, it was as if it was more graceful. If Felix was like a river in Byleth's future past, this Felix was like the ocean- deep and rich with depths unknown and potential waiting to submerge from the deep.

"Shut up, Sylvain." His words are punctuated with the swing of his sword.

"Is this about the professor making you the dancer?" Sylvain asks, eyes flitting around Felix's form. "You know, he knows our limits, right? And besides, you're more than pretty enough for the role. You'll sweep any girl you want off their feet. Hell, any man, too!"

"Don't act like more of a moron than you already are," the boy spits, momentarily stopping to toss his head, so that the stray hairs falling into his eyes do not interfere with his vision. "You already know why I stormed off."

Sylvain snorts, leaning back. "Yeah, but I have a thing called 'delicacy,'" he tells Felix.

Felix spares a second to glance at Sylvain, who was acting far too casual for his liking. Then, he snorts. "Never seen anything like that from you."

Sylvain pretends to have been wounded, hand to his chest. Byleth does not find it amusing. Felix even less so. "Ouch, my poor heart," Sylvain says. "I'm dying, Felix. I'll die without the gentle touch of your tender embrace. Won't you kiss me better?"

"Don't even joke about that shit," Felix snaps. Perhaps this was the moment that Byleth should intervene, but instead he is regretting all of the choices that led him to believe that eavesdropping on them would be a good idea. Had he learned nothing from his future past? Apparently not.

"So you do care," Sylvain says, although his teasing expression has been wiped from his face, due to Felix's serious nature. "You wouldn't mind kissing me again, then? Save me from death's embrace?"

"You absolute-"

The implications of 'again' has Byleth scrambling for the Sword of the Creator and cutting a rift in between dimensions just to get away from their antics, even at the risk of them hearing him or seeing the glow of his sword. He's embarrassed on Felix's behalf, to be frank. Byleth should never have followed.

Sothis' laugh chases him into the rift, and thank goodness for her high pitched, loud voice, lest he hear more of their conversation.

.

"Happy birthday, Dimitri!" The Blue Lions chant, as the prince steps through the door of their classroom. 

Dorothea steps forward and places a paper crown on his head, giggling as it slants ever so slightly, far too large for his head. "Sorry, we didn't know your head measurements, your Highness."

Dimitri does not move. Instead, his eyes drift over every single part of the room- the paper banners and streamers, some of which displayed his name, the large blue cake with several tiers, the pile of presents atop his desk. His eyes linger on every single student, their pleased, expectant expressions. All of them are wearing little paper hats of their own, including Felix. He doesn't seem pleased, but he has not made any attempt to storm out, which Byleth declared as a victory. Sothis is here too, but had refused to wear a paper hat. 

Byleth waves quietly at Dimitri when they lock eyes, unsurprised when it was not returned. It seemed as if the prince was ducked under ice-cold water, and did not even realize that he was let up to breathe.

The prince still does not take a single step. Dedue walks up to him, party hat small on his head, and places a hand on his shoulder. Quietly, he escorts him inside. "Your Highness, this is your party."

"Yeah!" Annette agrees, with a cheer. "Come on, come on in! We can't start without you! Ooh! Please try the cake first, us girls worked really hard on it!"

"Come oooooon," Caspar whines, practically drooling as he looks at the cake. "It looks so good, but we can't start without you!"

Dimitri stares at the cake wordlessly.

"Are you gonna speak or what?" Lysithea demands.

"Oh, wait a moment." Byleth cuts in. He snaps his fingers, and the thin candle on top of the cake is lit. The flame flickers quietly in the air. "According to some individuals, blowing out a candle on one's birthday and making a wish will make that wish come true. But you can't tell anyone your wish, or it will not. Or so the saying goes, anyway."

Dimitri stares into the small fire. Then, he turns his head to look at his professor. "Did you all... Is this... For me?"

"Well, I made some of the banners," Ingrid says. "Ashe, Cyril and Flayn helped."

"I've been getting better at reading!" Cyril declares sheepishly, rubbing the back his his head.

"I helped Mercie, Dorothea, and Lysithea make the cake!" Annette declares, one hand raised, looking extremely proud of herself.

"I slept," Linhardt murmurs, and Ferdinand swats the back of his head lightly. 

"And the rest of us did the noble duty of keeping your royal Highness distracted while our professor went and bought the gifts that we requested!" Ferdinand announces, looking quite proud of himself. "You did not even suspect us! Wonderful work, everyone!"

"You've been... a little down lately," Ashe says, nervous now. "We wanted to at least make this day happy. Even if your other days have been rough, we wanted to at least let you know how much we... how much we care for you, your Highness..."

Silence. 

"Dimitri."

"Huh?"

The prince smiles, and it makes him look heaven sent. "There's no need to be formal amongst... amongst friends, right?"

The Blue Lions all look at each other, and then smile widely. Some of them mouth the name, odd and yet surprisingly familiar around their tongue.

"Make a wish," Dedue says, picking up the cake, with gentle ease. The prince hesitates momentarily before walking over to the tall cake and blowing out the candle in one breath.

When Dimitri looks up, he meets Byleth's eyes and holds his gaze until Sylvain claps his hands together and declares he'll be the one to cut up the cake.

"I can do it," Felix says, raising his sword. Ingrid looks distraught.

The Blue Lions noisily eat their cake, thankfully sword free, and when it seems as if the last of the food is gone Byleth pulls out some pastries from under his desk. They gaze upon him with sparkly eyes.

"Gift time!" Flayn declares. "Ooh, it's so exciting, to see all of these presents laid out before us!"

Dimitri goes through an astounding amount of presents. Ingrid gifts him a frankly surprising amount of whetstone, Sylvain presents him with a shady looking book and a wink, and Felix, although unhappy about it, gives him what looks to be a brooch. He practically runs to the other side of the room when Dimitri attempts to thank him, as though he were a startled cat.

Dedue hands him a pair of gloves. There is an insignia that he does not recognize on the buttons, but the sight of them makes Dimitri throw an arm around Dedue with a small, but genuine smile.

More gifts pile up, one after the other. Dimitri looks overwhelmed by every single trinket, book, treat, and article of clothing. A scarf from Ashe is immediately thrown around his shoulders. Lysithea's cookies are tucked into his lap. Linhardt's book on the physical aspects and types of strength is placed far away from the food. 

The prince treats all of the gifts with a careful sort of reverence. He does not tear into the ribbons, and does not break open any boxes. Instead, they are kept as intact as possible, and grouped together neatly on his desk.

"Ah, that one," Byleth says, as Dimitri lifts up a tiny box with a green ribbon, opening the lid. "That is from my father and our mercenaries. It is apparently for relieving stress. Squeeze the ball when you are stressed, and it is an adequate outlet for your anger. At least that is what my father says."

"Won't it pop?" Lysithea blurts.

Sothis snorts. "If I squeeze it and it does not explode, I think Dimitri can, too."

Dimitri closes his fist around the ball and marvels at how it retains its shape. "What's inside?" 

"Don't ask," Sothis says, ominously.

"Here's my gift," Byleth cuts in, before the mood can change. He hands Dimitri a long box, the box itself green, with a blue ribbon. "Rather, mine and Sothis' gift. Happy birthday, Dimitri. I'm glad that our paths have crossed."

Dimitri's hands trace the dark blue ribbon, as if memorizing the lace trim and the length of the fabric. "Hurry up," Sothis whines, looking impatient. 

Byleth sighs at her, but Dimitri does not hurry. He grins at Sothis as he takes his time picking apart the box. 

The prince takes out the cape with gentle hands. Byleth does not wince at the sight. It is similar to the one that Dima had worn, but the fabric was more rare, and the fur lining thinner, but just as warm. The cape itself was a rich shade of dark blue, and if one felt along the lining, there were pockets of all sizes on the inside, imperceptible unless one were touching it.

"This cape is special," Sothis says, raising a finger. "It will block any lethal attack three times. After that, it will become a regular piece of cloth, a mere simple cape. Use it wisely."

Dimitri nods at her. "Thank you so much," he says, running a hand down the lining. 

"Byleth made it," Sothis says, and Byleth turns to her, eyes wide. "I just placed that spell upon it."

For some reason, Byleth thinks that Dimitri's face has softened at the sight of him. "Is that so? You are incredible, professor, truly a man of many talents."

How could Byleth possibly say that he learned how to sew by hastily sewing up wounds and by repairing any tears in Dima's cape, in the future? "It's nothing," Byleth says. "Again, happy birthday, Dimitri."

"The Blue Lions are always at your service!" Sylvain calls, teasing, although the gravity of his words are not so light.

The prince turns to Byleth, suddenly confident.

Dimitri bows, one hand over his chest. He peers up at Byleth through his eyelashes without raising his head, and suddenly Byleth feels both five years younger and simultaneously, five years older. "May I have the first dance with you? At the ball, I mean." Dimitri asks. "It would be an honor, professor. I've been practicing very hard, so that I do not step on your toes! Think of it as another birthday gift."

Byleth allows himself the briefest moment to shut his eyes and tweak the voice. A little deeper, more confident. He can see stars burst behind his eyelids and in the middle of that chaos he sees Dima, illuminated by moonlight, shadows dancing over his face.

_The moon is bright and wide over the night sky, pale light shining upon Dimitri as if were a beacon solely for him, for his grace. There is a striking contrast between the light cast upon him from the crackling fire, and the soft glow of midnight. He looks-_

_"You look stunning," Dima tells him. _

_Byleth blinks at the king, hardly realizing that he had been caught staring. He supposes it was fine, after all, the person in question had been staring back. _

_Confused, Byleth points at himself. _

_Dima smiles, a thin, brittle thing, but all the same it is a sight that Byleth would keep to his chest for many moons just like this. "Of course, it's you. No one else- no one else is as beautiful as you."_

_Suddenly Byleth is ashamed. Of the knots in his hair, the blood caked under his fingernails, and the mud underneath his boots. "You don't have to lie to me just because we are friends."_

_A shadow passes over Dima's face. "Is that what we are? Friends?"_

_The sound is hollow. Byleth closes his eyes, very briefly. "Are we not friends?"_

_Dima coughs into his hand. "W-well, I- That's not what I meant! You know that's... not... We are friends! But I was hoping that... Rather, that you would..."_

_In Dima's flustered state, he has nearly forgotten Byleth's little quirks and barely notices that the man is teasing him._

_Byleth turns his focus to his lap and busies himself with polishing his sword. _

_The king clears his throat again, so abrupt that Byleth glances up at him. "Have you forgotten that I proposed to you, the other day? That night, when you were working over documents and the like. And again, when I said that I did not require an answer? A-and that I asked for your answer again yesterday on the battlefield? It's been many days since that first night, and I... I... Well, I have not received a response."_

_"You what."_

_Suddenly looking much younger, a flush spreading throughout his face. It seeps to his ears and down to his neck. "D-did you not hear me?" Dima asks, then buries his head in his hands. "Oh, goddess above..."_

_"Didn't you tell me that you did not need an answer the second time?"_

_Dima makes a sound of wild embarrassment. "Forgive me!"_

_Byleth thinks briefly back to the bloody field of yesterday. He had been struck in the head with a spell, and so his ears had rung significantly, and then Dima had appeared and they fought as if it were a dance privy to them alone-_

_"My hearing was cut abruptly by a spell the other day," Byleth says, and then frowns. "Did you actually propose marriage to me in the middle of battle? A third time? After the first proposal a few nights back, and then again later?"_

_"Oh, no...."_

_Dima becomes one with his cloak, head still buried in his hands. Byleth thinks that he resembles a snail, or perhaps a turtle. "I wish I were dead," Dima announces, after a deep breath, "I have been tormented the entire day and night for nothing?! I thought that you thought I was too pushy, or that you already said no and I was too busy kicking myself not to notice!"_

_Byleth spots the Blue Lions trying their best to spy on them from behind a tent and utterly failing. "What do you think I said?" Byleth asks._

_Dima groans aloud, running a hand through his hair. "You hummed. Hummed! And I've been driven mad this entire time and with nothing to show for it but a face so red you could prepare me in one of Mercedes' berry tarts! I was wondering if you would reply after the battle, or perhaps at our meal times, or maybe at night when... Or did I walk out, far too early the first time? Did you have your reply this whole time, and was I simply just protecting myself from a potential no? Oh, goddess. If you have pushed my feelings aside, even unknowingly, thrice... I think I already am aware of the answer... Please, put me out of my misery and deny me..."_

_Byleth cocks his head to one side. One hand absentmindedly reaches for his mother's ring, and twists it around his finger. He barely remembers that Dima had proposed, but as soon as he is reminded, the memory floods back like rushing water._

_It was not as if Byleth wanted to reject him. Rather, he had been struck silent by the fact that Dima had actually proposed such a thing. They'd shared kisses, and they've held hands, and rested on each other's shoulders and wiped tears away and spent nights just attempting to fight away ghosts with touches-_

_Marriage._

_Byleth had never thought about it before. Not when he was a mercenary, and certainly not in the middle of the war._

_There is a vision, then, of Dima wearing Byleth's ring, the ring given by his father to his mother. The gleam of it is enough to catch Byleth's breath. White flowers, a grin wide enough to match the sun. The tender expression of someone that was gazing upon someone that they held very dear. Blue skies, and sunshine, and birdsong. The smell of a day that was steeped in rain moments prior. Distant cheers and claps, as if their audience was infected by their happiness, drunk on the emotion that seeped through the air._

_Dima, laughing through a kiss, unable to contain his grin. When they part, he leans down for another, greedy in a way Byleth understands. _

_The image disappears like fog on the wind and Byleth wants to leap from his seat to chase it for the rest of his days._

_"Ask me again," Byleth says._

_"What?"_

_Dima finally finds the courage to pry his fingers from his face, and finds Byleth staring at the man, gaze even. "Ask me again," Byleth repeats, ignoring the various whistles and encouraging sounds from the Blue Lions. "I'll give you your answer, properly."_

_Understanding dawns on the king's face. Dima takes another deep breath, and the expectant, open, vulnerable expression on his face is breathtaking. His lips part, and Byleth breathes._

"Of course," Byleth says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEE NOTHING BAD HAPPENED RIGHT? RIGHT. U CAN TRUST ME
> 
> oh my fucking god i really really was gonna put the beginning of the ball in this one and then i fucking didnt cause i opened my eyes and realized that dimis birthday is in this month of the story and i was like well i cant not include it and here we are!
> 
> next time on godspeed: the actual ball! dancing, threats, ominous warnings, and Absolutely Nothing Bad happens. u can trust me again cant you?
> 
> dima really be out here confessing multiple times and by really out here being like who me lol
> 
> okay so next week i may or may not be busy so i cant upload the chapter that week but. hopefully im not? those plans are unsure oh gosh 
> 
> thank you so very much for reading! ♡
> 
> byleth/dimitri B rank  
byleth/dedue B rank  
byleth/felix B rank  
byleth/annette B rank  
byleth/ingrid B rank  
byleth/sylvain B rank  
byleth/mercedes B rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt B rank  
byleth/ferdinand B rank  
byleth/lysithea B rank  
byleth/cyril C+ rank  
byleth/flayn B rank  
byleth/caspar B rank  
byleth/dorothea C+ rank
> 
> byleth/jeritza C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/sothis A rank  
byleth/claude C+ rank  
byleth/yuri ??? rank  
byleth/edelgard ??? rank  
byleth/rhea C+ rank


	42. heaven's darling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome back, everyone! i hope you've been staying safe and taking your meds if u need em and drinking lotsa water
> 
> this chapter is almost 13k can you fucking believe it this bitch is so long omg i cant believe myself
> 
> OKAY SO YOU GUYS ARE REALLY GOING TO BE PISSED AT ME BUT THAT'S OKAY BECAUSE IM PISSED AT MYSELF DHDHDHDHHDHD
> 
> an extra long chapter, for your reading experience! i dont want to say pleasure because hhhhhhhhhhhhh well have fun reading cause i had fun writing 
> 
> warning for violence, just in case!

The day begins at dawn for Byleth, much to his utter dismay. When he was a proper mercenary, his father had insisted on waking at this time at the very least, and it has been ingrained within his soul ever since. Every morning he wakes up and stares at the ceiling whilst wishing he were not awake, and promptly goes back to bed unless other pressing matters request his full attention and proper alertness.

Last night, he had dreamt that he had reached into his chest and found nothing but a black hole with no end. It reminded him of a similar dream that he can no longer recall, but it was haunting all the same.

Byleth sighs at the memory, slowly fading away into the abyss of his mind.

When he stumbles out of bed to reach for a goblet of water that he'd left the night before on his desk, Byleth thinks that he hears a loud commotion outside his room. Something like marching, like a storm taken human form, like thunder from a clear sky.

Byleth takes a sip of water to clear his thoughts.

However, as Byleth realizes that it is dawn, he thinks that it is simply the lingering effects of his odd dreams until Rhea bursts into his room, making Byleth spill the water down his chest as he dives for the nearest weapon.

Rhea hardly pays any attention to the mess he's made in favor of picking up Sothis, bridal style, and marching to the door. "Good morning, professor Byleth. I shall steal my mother away for the day, to get her ready for the ball."

Byleth stares down at his wet clothes. "It's dawn," Byleth comments, monotone.

The Archbishop nods at him, ignoring how Sothis, now very much awake, squirms in her arms wildly. She tries to swat at her daughter's face, and Rhea simply dodges calmly. "Yes. I would prefer we started the day before, but dawn is just as well. You should begin getting yourself ready for the ball, as well. Never a moment to waste."

"...Okay," Byleth replies, catching Sothis' desperate eyes. He watches as Rhea sweeps out of the door, shoulder pushing it aside. She does not close it, on account of her arms being full of a sleepy, yet grumpy goddess. "Farewell, then..."

Byleth watches after the pair for a moment. He closes his door and collapses onto his bed. 

Not even a moment later, Seteth practically kicks open the door. "Are you getting dressed?"

"It's dawn," Byleth mumbles.

"You mean, it's already dawn!" Seteth says, and Byleth can practically see the hands on his hips despite the fact that he was face down on his bed. "If you are to interact with mother tonight, all eyes will be on you! Please, begin to get ready!"

Seteth leaves and does not close the door. Byleth groans, long and loud. He raises one hand and waves it weakly in the direction of the door. Uselessly, his fingers wag in the air. 

"Please close the door," Byleth pleads, monotone.

The door slams shut. It's loud enough to startle him upright. He turns around, but no one is there. Peeling himself from his bed, Byleth stands, absentmindedly wiping at one eye. Theoretically, he should be more worried at a potential intruder, but Byleth is confident he can take down anyone with his bare hands.

Throwing open the door reveals an absence of people, due to the fact that it was, indeed, dawn.

Byleth looks from side to side. Empty air.

Did someone close his door for him and then run away for absolutely no reason? Or was it simply Byleth himself?

The idea of him swinging a door shut with words alone is absurd, but so does crossing time and hosting a god in his body akin to a vessel of some sort. 

Was he getting stronger? Byleth did not say a command, or rather, not the specific words. Perhaps he was able to use a spell that did not include summoning thunder from the sky or dropping meteors on his enemies' heads.

He did see Sothis slam a door shut without a word, as she lifted him out of the door. But then, he had assumed that it was some sort of wind spell. 

Perhaps not.

Byleth stares down at his hands. 

Instead of thinking, he walks back into his room, closes the door silently, and face plants back onto his bed.

.

Someone is shaking his shoulder.

Byleth rolls over, so that he were not facing them. 

"Byleth," a voice calls. 

Somehow in that haze, he is able to recognize his father's familiar gruff drawl.

"You're late for class." Jeralt says, his voice slightly more audible through Byleth's sleepy haze.

"I don't go to school."

A moment passes. Byleth sits up so fast his head nearly collides with his father's head, were it not for the man's impressive reflexes.

"I'm a professor," Byleth says, eyes wide.

"Just kidding," Jeralt tells him, putting his hands on his son's shoulders to settle him. "It's the ball today, remember? You gotta get ready."

Byleth immediately crashes back onto his pillow. "Not you too," Byleth murmurs.

"Well, it's also lunch time," Jeralt says, tone softer than usual. "Apparently we're having a huge feast for lunch 'cause of the ball or something. I saw some fish dishes I thought you'd like, and wanted to wake you before those animals you call students finish them off."

Byleth immediately crawls out of bed, sluggishly pulling on his boots and reaching for a shirt discarded onto the floor. Jeralt chuckles at his reaction and reaches over to the desk to pick up a hair brush, wordlessly handing it to Byleth.

"Here, kiddo."

Byleth barely looks at him, but takes the brush anyway. "You seem excited," he says, monotone and dull from sleep.

His father shrugs. "I just don't ever see you dressed up much," he says. "And it's been awhile since we've danced, right kid?"

Byleth feels warm at the unspoken promise to dance. He kicks off his nightgown and Jeralt catches it mid air, placing it into the basket intended for his used clothes.

"Aren't you an adult now?" Jeralt teases, as Byleth rips the hairbrush through several knots in his hair.

"Theoretically," Byleth says, still drowsy from sleep. Jeralt holds the door open for him when he looks ready, and they head out to the dining hall together in companionable silence.

Byleth is not expecting the violent uproar in the dining hall.

It is a mess. Everywhere he looks, thrown clothing and shoes are everywhere, despite the fact that it was a dining hall, and not the dorms. Food is being shoved into mouths by the handful, corsets are being tightened, and it seems that everyone is struggling with their multitasking- should they eat a proper meal, or should they have a presentable set of clothes to wear? Will they wear three sashes or two? Gold or silver buttons? Byleth has never claimed to understand the nobility and their love for parties, but Byleth supposes since Sothis had opened up the ball to everyone, that enjoying parties was an 'everyone' thing.

Byleth watches all of this with tired eyes, and then walks to the counter to ask for some fish. "Father, shall we eat in the greenhouse?" He asks, ignoring the call of the Blue Lions at his back.

To their credit, they look relatively calm. It was likely because their outfits were already prepared. But Ashe kept fiddling with his hair, pushing it back and then messing it up again, looking torn. And Lysithea was practically vibrating in her seat with excitement.

His father, the traitor, pushes him toward his students and laughs as he walks over to sit with some of the staff. Byleth groans, but he does his best to hide it from the students.

"Hi professor! Good morning!" Caspar greets, spitting little bits of food everywhere. Linhardt, at his side, looks as if he is about to strangle the boy. Byleth waves back before anything drastic can happen.

"It's afternoon, Caspar," Lysithea says, nose turned up. She looks haughty, but the curve of her lips betray her, and she's been fidgeting with one of the brooches Sothis gifted to her as part of her outfit tonight.

Byleth turns to greet her too but is stopped in his tracks at the sight of a girl sitting next to her. "Oh. Hello."

Marianne curls into herself and hides behind a curtain of her hair. "...H-hello..."

Lysithea slaps her on the back with a triumphant expression. "She's joining our class now," Lysithea declares, as Marianne seems to retreat further behind her hair and hands.

Byleth blinks at Lysithea. It wasn't as if he was going to reject her. Besides, he was quite fond of the girl- Marianne was one of the members of the Blue Lions in his past life. Whenever he did a head count at the beginning of the year, he would stop for a moment before realizing that she was not part of his class in this life. "Marianne?" Byleth asks, softer than normal. He did not want to frighten her. "Are you really joining?"

Marianne says something that he doesn't quite catch. Lysithea rolls her eyes. "Okay, so here's the thing, professor," she says, after a sip of whatever was in her goblet, "she wanted a dress, I told her your goddess gave us some, and then now she's in our class."

Byleth has suddenly developed the ability to read minds, like Sothis. He can practically see what the Blue Lions are thinking, written all over their faces.

_Bribery..._

_It's bribery, huh?_

_She's totally bribing her in..._

Byleth shakes his head. "I will not let anyone join without their specific consent," Byleth says, and begins to cut into his fish. 

Lysithea pouts, but Marianne straightens. "I- I... I!"

Annette opens her mouth, but Mercedes shakes her head at her, and she remains patiently silent. 

Byleth has taken a bite of fish before Marianne finally gathers up her courage. He's proud of her. "I... It's not about the dress... I have always- well, how do I, um, say this?"

Marianne suddenly meets Byleth's eyes with a confidence he did not know that she currently possessed. "Have we met before, professor? Before... Before the academy, I mean..."

She turns beet red and turns her head away. "I mean, it's nothing! I... I want to join... If that's alright with you?"

Byleth blinks, and in her place is a strong, confident woman from his future past. He shakes his head slightly to banish the vision of her away. "Of course it's alright with me," Byleth says, and that is apparently the cue for the Blue Lions to start cheering and reaching over to pat Marianne's head, her hands, her back. She shrivels at the attention, and immediately the Blue Lions begin to apologize at their slight.

_Have we met before?_

Byleth tilts his head. How odd. There shouldn't be anyone that time travelled alongside him. There shouldn't be anyone who knows, except for Sothis, and the ones that he's told.

It had to be a coincidence. Byleth takes another bite of his fish, but his mind is too loud.

.

When Byleth finally returns to his room, Sothis is there, lounging on his bed and eating some sliced apples. He wonders where she had procured them. 

Then he pauses at the sight of her.

"You're late!" Sothis huffs, folding her arms across her chest.

This is the first time that she's looked like 'herself' in her corporeal form. Normally, she had worn the armor and the style of hair that the original body wore, but now she looks familiar. Like arriving home. The dress is all the same, an indigo skirt that grows longer in the back, with golden embellishments, and it has the same pink and white ribbons that dangle from her outfit. Her headpiece is the same as well, golden and sharp.

What had really thrown Byleth was the fact that she looked like an adult. 

Taller, and with longer hair that seemed like wings emerging from her hair and sprouting from her back, at the correct angle. She had lost her baby face as well, and the eyes that had seemed huge on her face fit her stature perfectly. Sothis was actually wearing shoes- a fact that stunned Byleth. They were more akin to sandals, with golden ribbons crisscrossing their way up her long legs. 

"What?" She demands. Now that she's stood from the bed, Byleth notices that she's wearing a cape, the same shade as her dress, but sheer in texture. "Am I so beautiful you've no words left?"

Byleth blinks at her in confusion, but she rolls her eyes. "No compliments to share with the goddess that actually granted you life and saved it multiple times since then? Huh?"

"You look very nice, Sothis," Byleth tells her honestly, and his sincerity makes a smile blossom upon her face. It was so odd to see her all grown up.

In this form, she is somehow _taller_ than him. It's hard to believe.

She tosses him a sliced apple as if in thanks. "Well now," she says, grinning. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Sighing, she sits back on the bed. "I'm only using this form for tonight," Sothis explains, shoving the last slice of fruit in her mouth. "I must make a good impression on those that arrive."

"Haven't people already seen you looking so young?" Byleth asks, and then remembers the body, frowning at the thought.

Sothis shrugs. "Faerghus has been loyal to me, apparently. I cannot resemble a child in front of their king. Or whatever my daughter told me," she says, chewing with her mouth open. "This form is almost similar to the one I possessed when I first greeted you mortals."

"Did you not have a human form?" Byleth asks, curious now.

She grins at him, and her teeth and the shine of her lips are distinctly inhuman. Byleth wisely shuts up.

"Ahhh, I want to meet a king," Sothis lying down on his bed and sighing. "I wonder how they rule. I wonder how they act. Stories are good and all, but seeing is believing, or whatever you mortals say. Politics are so funny to me. You mortals truly are one of a kind."

"You've met Dimitri," Byleth says, and Sothis makes an unimpressed sound and rolls around. Her dress does not even become wrinkled.

"Dimitri is the exception," Sothis says, eyes suddenly glowing. "He will grow to be a ruler unlike any other, depending on what road you take."

The goddess mutters something under her breath.

Byleth has long become accustomed to her odd rambling. "One of your future visions?"

"It's not so much a vision as it is an experience," Sothis says. "I know the flow of time, but I cannot influence the path. I can only guide mortals upon them- there are millions more options for several more futures than there are stars in the sky."

"Huh."

"I'm very excited to dance tonight!" Sothis declares suddenly, eyes shining. "Last time, you did not dance or sing enough to my liking! But tonight, I am going to go all out! Of course, we are dancing together, and I plan to dance with Seiros, and Cichol, and Cethleann, and maybe your father..."

Byleth makes a face at a sudden thought that occurs to him. "Are your other children coming? Indech and Macuil?"

Sothis sighs. "No," she says, bitterly. "They refuse to play nice with mortals. You know, when you were asleep, I used a pulse because Macuil nearly tore out the tongue of someone who had accidentally bumped into him?"

"Really?"

"I'm exaggerating the slightest bit, but..." Sothis makes a soft sound. "Those two refuse to act in a manner that befits them. They're content just to plan with me in the basement of the school."

"Found anything out about the group you were looking for?" Byleth asks, and watches Sothis' expression warp.

"I may have a lead," Sothis says. "I'll tell you everything after the ball. Tonight is for making merry and for dancing until we foam at the mouth and plead our feet to listen to us!"

"I do not particularly wish to foam at the mouth," Byleth tells her, and Sothis pulls at his cheeks. "But I would be honored to dance with you."

"That's right, it would be an honor," Sothis tells him, eyeing his garb. "And you're not dressed," she comments, and Byleth barely has the time to react when she snaps her fingers and the clothes appear before them.

Byleth awkwardly changes into the outfit as Sothis eats her fruit. The coat fits him like a glove, which is to be expected from a magic outfit, he supposes, as does the rest of the clothes. Slacks, shiny shoes, odd sashes that he cannot figure out the purpose for- he looks like a person playing king.

"You look the part," Sothis says, nodding. "Don't worry, I wouldn't allow you to look absolutely hideous if we are going to dance together."

Byleth sighs at her odd brand of encouragement and begins to brush his hair with an odd sense of doom building up in his chest. He doesn't know why. Perhaps it was because this was the moon- the time- when his father died.

No matter how cheery and jovial everyone was, and no matter how dead that Kronya was, Byleth could not shake the dread drilling holes into his chest.

He has the sudden urge to go back in time and bash her head in with the blunt end of his dagger, and then he frowns at the violent thought. How unlike him.

By the way Sothis is grinning at him, Byleth can tell that she has heard every single bit of his thoughts. Luckily for him, she decides not to comment.

"Oh, that's right. Would you be willing to make a dress for someone that just joined my class a few hours back?"

.

Byleth is busy helping Dorothea tighten the corset of her dress when the rest of the Blue Lions join them in their classroom.

Some of them were already there, and well groomed- Ashe had decided to actually slick his hair back, and the sight of him threw Byleth five years into a future he was so rudely tossed out of. Flayn had somehow straightened her curled hair, and it was a glossy cascade down her shoulders. Ferdinand certainly had the look of someone dapper- long lashes and a pierced ear, of all things- had he possessed that piercing before, or was Byleth going mad?

Dimitri walks into the class room, smiling softly at something Dedue had apparently said, and steals the breath from Byleth's chest and time from his soul.

He did look rather princely. Although the top he was wearing was similar to the top of his uniform, it had more embellishments- vines of silver and buttons that displayed his crest, stitching that tapered off into elegant designs and a sash that was deep blue etched across his chest. Even his slacks were more formal, and had silver tassels that probably cost enough to hire Byleth's mercenary group a dozen times over. A long, dark blue coat with silver flowers stitched near the wrists of the sleeve was draped over his shoulders- he was not actually wearing it as a coat, moreso as a cape. The collar was lined with snow white fur, and it cascaded around his knees.

For a moment, Byleth can see Dima in that outfit, too.

And then a thought occurs to him. Didn't it seem as if they matched somewhat? The sashes, and the similar style of clothing, although Dimitri's clothes favored silver over gold.

Byleth waves the thought away. Everyone was dressed to the nines tonight, and everyone could tell that Dimitri's outfit outshone the rest. It was not as if they had planned this out. 

Predictably, as soon as the prince and Dedue arrive, the Blue Lions' mouths spill over with compliments and praise. They're all laughing, and smiling, and giving the ball gowns and formal wear heart felt compliments- it is nice. 

It is still unable to drown out the sudden wave of nervousness that threatens to drown Byleth. If his father died again, he would-

"You look nice, professor," Dedue greets him. Byleth immediately shakes himself out of his stupor. It wouldn't do for his students to notice anything was troubling him, especially on such a night. 

"You look especially incredible, Dedue," Byleth compliments, completely honest. He really did look nice. His hair seemed to shine, and his outfit was particularly grand- a low collar, intricate patterns into the fabric- it did not seem like something Dedue would wear, but Byleth had never seen him dressed up like this. He seemed very pleased with his outfit.

After dodging Sylvain's attempt to ruffle his hair, Dimitri makes his way over to the pair and trips over his feet when he meets Byleth's gaze. Byleth almost misses it- he's surprised by the sight of Sylvain wearing a waistcoat- a _waistcoat._ Dedue and Byleth scramble to catch him, but Dimitri rights himself quickly and laughs in a very stilted manner.

"Mesmerizing," Dimitri says, and then bites down on his lip. "I did not mean- No. No, no. I meant it. You look absolutely stunning, professor. I mean it- I absolutely tripped over myself when I saw you just now."

Byleth cannot help but smile at the compliment. "You look rather dashing yourself," Byleth tells him, and the prince fiddles with his bangs before clearing his throat and looking elsewhere, gaze on the Blue Lions. 

"This is the only ball of the year, and I see why," Dimitri says, eyes warm on his fellow classmates. "Everyone is absurdly excited..."

Dedue regards him softly. "Your Highness, you seem rather pleased. I am happy to see it."

"Right you are," Dimitri says, chipper. "I am excited to dance with everyone. I have been practicing hard!"

"You're going to stomp on everyone's toes," Felix calls, and Byleth blinks at the sight of the boy. His hair was _braided._ It looked fantastic. "Whatever. I'll stay in case that man comes, leave, and then go swing my sword around."

Sylvain turns a pout on him. "Come on, Felix! We should all dance with his- no, Dimitri! Besides, didn't I already tell you to save me a dance? You wish to throw away the best day of the whole year for sword practice? Insanity, I tell you!" 

Felix rolls his eyes as Ashe smiles, embarrassed. "I'm pretty excited about the ball, myself! It's not like we get to do things like this very often!" 

Caspar grins at Ashe and throws an arm around his shoulder. "I know! It's going to be so exciting! Linhardt, you too!" 

Linhardt is napping on a chair. Light snores fill the air.

Sylvain gestures at the two boys with a pleased smile on his face and Felix rolls his eyes again. 

"I can't dance very well," Ashe says. "Will you teach me, Caspar?"

Caspar looks as if he had been handed the secrets of the universe. "Of course!"

Annette perks up. "I can help you with that too! Don't worry about the dancing part, Ashe. We can teach you that, easy!"

"I, Ferdinand von Aegir, shall educate you as well!" Ferdinand declares, as he shakes Linhardt awake. "Young Ashe- do not fret!"

"Speaking of teaching," Mercedes blurts, smiling over at Ingrid, who is pretending to nap next to Linhardt, "did you apply any of the makeup lessons we taught you, Ingrid? It's the perfect time to use them- it is the ball, after all!"

Lysithea makes a sound of agreement.

Ingrid stammers. The sight of her at a loss for words make the Blue Lions laugh- including Dimitri.

"You know... There's no telling where life will take us after we leave here. If only we could find a way to come together again, just like this..."

Byleth bites down on the inside of his mouth. What a way that they had met up. 

"A fine notion, your Highness. Perhaps five years from now?" Dedue offers, grinning ever so slightly.

At the mention of those five years, Byleth fights the urge to run. He can feel the beginning of a headache churning in his mind, feel shadows lick at his heels and beg for attention.

"Five years from now?" Dimitri asks. "Ah! That's when Garreg Mach monastery will be holding its millennium festival!"

What even was the millennium festival? Byleth hardly recalls. All he knew was the sensation of falling, of falling, of falling, of falling...

"By then, we'll be addressing you as His Majesty instead!" Ingrid comments, looking rather excited by the prospect. She is not even pretending to be asleep now.

"That's right," Sylvain says, looking solemn. Then, he suddenly brightens. "But come on, it's not as if we'll be that far away from each other! I mean, we're still gonna be friends after we graduate!"

Ah, graduation.

Byleth really wanted to see them graduate this time.

Dimitri nods. "Yes, of course! My title will change, but I won't. And I'm sure that no matter where the future takes us- no matter our stuffy positions, we'll all be friends."

Ferdinand makes a triumphant pose for some reason. "That's right. We'll be sure to get along- me, the prime minister of Adrestia, and the king of Faerghus? It will surely be great for our countries!"

The prince smiles at that, while Byleth tries his very best not to wince. "I do believe that the festivities at the millennium festival will be of a scale far beyond anything we've yet seen... in other words, the perfect excuse for all to meet up here."

Annette smiles at Dimitri, unable to keep herself from bouncing about. "Ooh, a reunion? That sounds like fun! I wouldn't miss it for the world!"

Byleth closes his eyes and attempts to calm his breathing. Words wash over his head.

"I would love for you to be there as well, professor," Dimitri declares, turning to Byleth. "After all, you're the heart of the Blue Lion house."

Subconsciously, Byleth's hand reaches up to his chest and presses up where his heart was meant to be. It is predictably silent. 

"I'll be there," Byleth says. He doesn't know what sort of face he's making, or if something was off with his words, but everyone stares at him, something soft about their expressions.

"Good. Then it's settled!" Dimitri says. "I may not- No. I will attend, no matter what. We can plan out the logistics and organize this reunion together, professor! Count on it."

Byleth smiles at him. The prince's eyes glance down his face for a moment, before darting up.

"What about you, professor?" Sylvain asks, grin wide. "Are you going to keep working as a professor here? Gotta say, even though you're barely older than most of us, you do a fine job!"

"I'm sure his _Majesty_ would always have a position for you," Dedue says pointedly, and Dimitri sends him an alarmed expression.

"Thank you," Byleth says. He cannot lie and say that he has not thought of it before. Byleth did very much enjoy being a professor. During his time here, he had learned that he not only was skilled with swinging a sword around, but he had other information to deploy and much to learn and see for himself. "But not only am I wildly unqualified to be a professor, there are things I can do as a mercenary."

"Oh?" Ingrid prompts. 

Byleth rolls the words around in his head to think. If he did not die and did not fall into a chasm and sleep there for five years, that was time to work on things that were not ending or perhaps even stopping the flickers of a new war. He ticks off his fingers to count. "I would like to find some way to help the people of Duscur, whether it be rebuilding or something else, I want to revisit the Red Canyon and learn its significance, maybe even go with Claude to those fishing spots, I want to learn about my bi..." Byleth trails off before the last words leave his lips. "There is a lot that I want to do, and if I have to teach at the same time, it may conflict."

Sylvain smiles at him, a glint in his eyes. "Well, now, professor," he drawls. "Allow my family and I to be the first to hire you when we graduate! I want to learn more about Sreng, and- and hopefully find a peace with them sooner rather than later. We can probably work something out faster if you're there!"

Lysithea makes an offended sound, placing her hands on her hips. "Don't think that you're going to hog the professor all to yourself!" Lysithea cuts in, tossing her hair over one shoulder. "He's going to return with me to my family estate and he's going to help me do some research!"

Byleth has made no such promise, but how could he refuse any of his students?

Dimitri clears his throat. "I would always be willing to hire you and your mercenaries," he offers, looking shy now.

"You won't be getting a discount just because you were my student," Byleth tells him. The prince stares at him before bursting out into laughter.

"Ah, professor. Never change." Dimitri opens his mouth to say something, but the ringing of bells cuts him off- the sign that the ball has begun. Immediately the Blue Lions scatter, laughing amongst themselves.

Byleth watches them for a moment and runs a hand down his face. Something hollow within him splinters at the edges, cracking and falling into an abyss lying at the pit of his chest. 

"Professor?" 

Byleth just barely prevents himself from jolting. Dimitri and Dedue were still there. He really was losing his touch, wasn't he?"

"Is everything alright?" Dedue asks, looking worried.

"I- I am simply not the best with crowds," Byleth tells them, and it is not a lie. "So I am not in a rush."

Dimitri straightens his shoulders. "Then, would you like to escape them with me?" Byleth glances at the boy, curious. "After you dance with everyone, and after I greet my uncle, would you... Would you care to join me at the goddess tower?"

"Of course," Byleth says. "Dedue, would you like to come as well?"

Immediately the prince makes an expression that Byleth cannot read, turning wide eyes on Dedue. Dedue looks momentarily panicked, before staring straight ahead. "I. I must dance the entire night," Dedue says, stilted. "You. You can, you can go off by yourselves."

Discreetly, Dimitri grins at Dedue, who smiles imperceptibly right back. Byleth pretends to not have seen. "Alright. Shall we go? Sothis will be upset with me if I am late."

.

The ball room is simply one of the halls decked out in golden light and extravagant baubles, sashes, and curtains, but it is much more fancier than the previous ball. For one, the doors leading out into the grounds of the academy reveal that the grassy terrain and the gazebos are also all decorated, lace and giant ribbons everywhere. Tables and chairs are pushed off to the side, laden with food and drink, to make room for a makeshift dance floor that some were already taking advantage of. All sorts of folk spill outside, or into the markets, or by the spread of food, and onto the dancefloor, smiling and laughing alongside the music. 

Somehow, it feels as if the room had expanded. How was that even possible, especially with the large amount of people wandering about?

Byleth's surprised at how well it seems to be going.

At a glance, one can tell student from common folk from noble. Some students are still wearing something from their uniform to set themselves apart if they were not wearing anything exquisite, such as the uniform's shoes. The invited populace gawk at the high chandeliers and the mountains of sparkling macarons and little cakes- while the nobles flick fans in front of their faces and laugh behind ringed fingers. It was odd, to see such a party where common folk stood next to glittering silks in their simple gowns with their backs straight and their gait tall.

Surprisingly, there is no obvious divide. Byleth supposes the reason for that is because everyone is similar in their united and unspoken desire- to stare at Sothis.

The attendants of the ball twitch with the desire to approach her.

She is not sitting on a special throne, nor is she dancing with her daughter, who was standing right behind her, nor is she fawning over the guests. Sothis is tapping her foot, leaning against the wall, and watching the people go as if they were just as fascinating as the presumed goddess plucking fruit from a tray. 

Indeed, there is something about her that Byleth had only become accustomed to over time- the dress, which seemed to flutter and float about her despite the lack of a breeze, and the small sharp incisors of her teeth that poked out occasionally, or maybe it were her glowing eyes, or perhaps it was the _absolutely immense set of forest-green wings that sprouted from her back,_ thick and feathered at the ends, while wyvern-like in every other aspect.

Sothis spots Byleth and suddenly she is in front of him, landing on the space just in front of his feet. "You're late," she tells him, eyebrows scrunching up. She raises a hand and Byleth stares at it in confusion for several seconds.

Byleth blinks.

_ **Kiss it, moron.** _

_Oh, sorry._

He leans over and takes her hand, pressing his lips to the knuckle. The gasps from the people are not entirely surprising, but it makes Byleth fight to hide a wince.

"Dearest Byleth," Sothis greets. "You do brighten my night with your arrival."

"Uh," Byleth says. Her face twists up.

"I've been waiting forever," Sothis whines, "come on! Let's dance! Hurry, hurry!"

"I promised that my first dance would be Dimitri's," Byleth tells her, and waits for her to tug at his ear or perhaps scold him in front of what seemed like thousands of eyes.

Instead, a smirk rises on her face. She tilts her head to look at Dimitri, who was standing right behind Byleth. "Oh?" Sothis prompts, unable to stop her grin from splitting her face. "Did you now?"

Byleth nods quietly.

Sothis snaps her fingers- and the instruments tucked into a corner begin to play all by themselves, without a single musician. Of course, this sets off several gasps once again. Byleth supposes that such a display of unnamed magic would be surprising to anyone.

"Alright, go on," Sothis says, laughing about a joke that she alone was privy to. "I'll go dance with Seiros."

Byleth watches as she practically skips away, humming a little tune to herself. He turns to Dimitri, still a little confused, then remembers himself. 

Bowing with a hand over his chest, Byleth offers Dimitri a hand. "May I have this dance?" Byleth asks, lifting his head to meet the prince's eyes.

Dimitri quickly glances away from Sothis' back to look at Byleth. "Of course," he says, voice slightly uneven. If Byleth were to turn to look at Dedue like Dimitri had, he would notice the subtle thumbs up that he was shooting the prince. Of course, Byleth does not notice.

Byleth pulls Dimitri to the dancefloor, and the swell of the music lifts their feet. People part for them to move to the center, eyes on their prince, but Byleth stays firmly to the sides, eager to pretend that they weren't the center of attention.

"May I touch you?" Byleth whispers, and Dimitri nods so quickly he worries he'll get whiplash. When Byleth places a hand on Dimitri's waist, the prince jumps at the contact, looking as if he cannot decide between pushing Byleth away or bringing him closer, for some reason. 

Dimitri laces their fingers together, and they quickly step into a dance.

"YOUR HIGHNESS! LEAN IN AND PUT YOUR HAND ON HIS WAIST!!! DO IT!!!" A voice that sounds suspiciously like Sylvain calls, from the distance. Dimitri subconsciously tucks his face into his shoulder and it does absolutely nothing to hide his red face.

"I swear that I am going to kill Sylvain," Dimitri mutters, looking everywhere but at his professor.

"COME ON! IT'S ONE OF YOUR ONLY CHANCES!" 

Dimitri steps on Byleth's toes at the sudden call and winces. "Oh my goddess, professor, I am so sorry, please, I won't do that ever again, I swear-"

"Haha," Byleth chuckles softly. He spins Dimitri around with the music. "It's alright, Dimitri. I wasn't hurt."

The prince trips over Byleth's feet and loses his balance at the sound of his laugh. Not wanting him to hurt himself, Byleth turns the fall into a dip, ignoring the loud cheers and wolf whistles around him. People are clapping. Byleth wants to hide.

The golden glow from the chandelier seems to cast sparkles into Dimitri's eyes when they look at each other. Byleth smiles at his dumbstruck expression. Dima was just the same when they were dancing, earnest and yet quick to fumble his moves.

Byleth effortlessly lifts the prince back into a standing position and sweeps him alongside the other dancers, hopefully to disappear amongst them. "Haven't you had dancing lessons and tutors, mister prince?" Byleth teases, although he stays completely monotone.

By the sudden lightness of his feet, Byleth can tell that Dimitri is aware that the boy is teasing him. "Scared them all away," Dimitri tells him, wistfully. "Whenever I was grumpy, which was whenever I had to take dance lessons instead of combat training, I would stomp craters into the dancefloor and everyone gave up on me. I never had the talent for dancing, anyway."

Byleth hums as they spin around, and Dimitri's fingers clench. "Would you be my teacher in this matter too, professor?"

"I am not skilled in dancing," Byleth tells the prince, as he pulls him in tighter. A few couples had been close enough to nudge them with their elbows. "Perhaps ask my father."

Dimitri stares at him, and then squares his shoulders as the song begins to die. "Professor," Dimitri tells him, eyes oddly focused. "I am rather greedy, after all. Don't you see that I am obviously trying to spend as much time with you as possible?"

"Oh," Byleth says, and the music ends. Dimitri dips into a bow, and Byleth does the same a beat after him. Thoughts whirl aimlessly around his mind. "Alright, then."

Greedy?

When Dimitri meets Byleth's eyes again, that sparkle is somehow still there. "Professor, I-"

"My turn!" Sothis says, somehow magically landing in between them. "Leave some room for me, little prince."

Whatever expression she makes on her face makes Dimitri turn bright red. 

"Now, let's dance!" Sothis says, waving her finger and starting up another tune. She pulls Byleth to the middle of the dance floor, wings fluttering behind him, and laughs as she kicks off her sandals and dances to a song Byleth has never heard before.

.

By the time Sothis has finally freed Byleth from her ravenous desire to both swing her hips and not wear any shoes, he's slinking against the wall and sighing, attempting to catch his breath.

How long did she make Byleth dance for? There were several songs with a jaunty tune and a bright melody, and a few slow dances where Sothis could not stop giggling and singing in a language that he did not recognize.

Her clear pleasure was infectious. People were clapping and watching her with intent eyes, eager to learn the unknown steps. Many an eye was drawn to how her wings would swing around with her as well.

Byleth was very dizzy from all the swinging. 

Luckily for him, Sothis has sunk her into her son now, who looks very afraid. Seteth sends a desperate look to his daughter, who only laughs as she's pulled into a dance by Annette.

Byleth watches Seteth get picked up and spun around for a few moments before noticing there is someone practically plastered to the wall next to him as well.

When she realizes he is staring, Marianne bows ever so slightly, avoiding eye contact. "Thank you for... for the dress..."

"It was Sothis, in truth," Byleth says, not wanting to frighten her by heaping praise or thanks upon her that she thought she wouldn't deserve. 

Marianne turns away, eyes on the golden floor. "So many people look happy..." Marianne says, voice soft enough that Byleth can pretend he has not heard. "I..."

"Would you like to dance with me?" Byleth asks, matching her tone.

Immediately Marianne shakes her head. "I wouldn't dare," she tells him, and the loathing in her voice makes Byleth want to bring her into a hug.

At the very least, she turns to him now, even if she is not making proper eye contact. "Hm..."

"What is it?"

Marianne brushes at her stray hairs, self conscious. "It's just..." she begins, and angles her body every so slightly away from Byleth. "When I first saw you, my first thoughts were... Shouldn't his hair be darker? No, it changed. And then I... I thought... Why did I think that?"

Byleth tilts his head to one side. "Perhaps we did meet," he says, having to unclench his teeth. "I had darker hair before I came to the academy. I worked as a mercenary and traveled to many places."

She frowns softly. "I... Maybe...? But I do not recall. Sorry to bother you with something so, so trivial. I should leave."

"You don't have to," Byleth tells her, and from the crowd, out pushes Lysithea, who seems flushed with the energy of the ball.

"We're dancing now," Lysithea tells Marianne, grabbing her hand without a care. "Come on, come on! We have to take advantage of this!"

Lysithea pulls Marianne into the crowd, who squeals in protest. Lysithea pretends to not have heard, only calling out with a loud voice. "Tell Sothis thank you!" Lysithea blurts, and disappears into the sea of people with Marianne before Byleth can do anything.

Byleth tilts his head. When did she start using her first name? 

Deciding not to think so hard about it, Byleth snatches a slice of zanado fruit from a tray and eats it, grateful for the reprieve. He stares out at Sothis, eye catching in the crowd, and watches the people gradually become more comfortable with meeting her gaze.

Someone taps Byleth's shoulder. 

When he turns around, his father is bowing to him, smile evident. "May I have this dance?" Jeralt asks.

"Yes," Byleth says, unable to help his own smile. His father takes him to the dancefloor with soft eyes, and Byleth feels years younger at the kind look on his father's face.

.

It is late when Byleth has finally finished dancing with his father, the mercenaries, and all of his students. Even Claude had approached him to dance, and he'd spun Byleth around until Claude was breathless with laughter at his still blank face. Sothis is now spinning a little boy around, his mother laughing at them. He's happy that Sothis has been able to experience one of her wishes- to dance the entire night long.

Byleth is happy that he was able to dance with the people he cares about.

He is not so happy about his aching feet, but the smiles on the faces of the people he loves make him quite pleased. By now, many of the people gathered have congregated around the tables laden of food, tired from dancing and singing.

Byleth sighs, running a hand through his hair. It is indeed very late, but apparently the night is quite young for a party. He grabs a goblet of something from a table, and ventures out of the doors and further into the school grounds.

Not many people still remained there. There were parents comforting their tired kids and students pretending like they didn't just sneak off to the goddess tower, lips as red as their faces, and there was Edelgard, sitting in a gazebo, watching the dance from outside. Golden light spills onto the grass and does not reach far enough to brighten her face.

It was if there was a bubble surrounding her, preventing her from joining. A wall. Perhaps even an invisible barrier. Nevertheless, she sits still as the movement upon the dancefloor constantly changes with the glow of the moonlight, timeless.

Byleth has every intention to pretend as if he had never seen her. But something about her expression has him slipping into the chair beside her.

"No Hubert?" Byleth asks. 

Edelgard startles, as if she had just realized that Byleth was there. Her shoulders relax when she realizes that it is simply Byleth, and something about that is odd to him. Why did she seem relaxed in his presence? Byleth did not get it at all.

He takes a careful sip of what apparently was a very, very weak wine as she fights to collect herself. "Hubert does not enjoy balls," she says evenly, smoothing out her red dress.

"I see," Byleth says, taking another glug of the wine. 

A moment passes before anyone speaks again.

"Why are you here?" Edelgard asks him, still staring out into the ballroom with tired eyes. "Weren't you dancing with everyone? You should return, I am sure that people are looking for you."

"You were watching me dance?" Byleth asks, and watches Edelgard purse her lips at being caught.

She chews thoughtlessly onto her bottom lip before responding. "Your green hair really stands out," she tells him, softly. "Like a beacon in the crowd. Even at a distance, you were dancing around."

Byleth acknowledges that with the tilt of his head. "You aren't going to dance?"

Edelgard shakes her head. "I don't think so," she says. "Everyone shines too brilliantly there, for me."

Byleth absolutely does not understand what she means, but at the same time, he can understand the logic somehow. "I see," Byleth says. "So if I invited you to dance, you would refuse me?"

The imperial princess pries her eyes away from the ball in favor of staring at Byleth, now. "Aha," she giggles, and the sound is false enough to grate on Byleth's ears. "You don't even like me. Why would you invite me to dance?"

"Why do you think that?" Byleth asks, instead of blurting out the truth. And why was Edelgard so... Byleth did not know how to explain it, but it seemed as if her tongue was looser this evening.

Edelgard stares into the red of her dress, before responding. "You will not address me by name, you can't look directly at me," she begins, as if counting directly off of a list, "you tense up whenever I am near. I think I know that you dislike me, professor."

Had Edelgard been watching him, too? He had no idea that he tensed up around her. He did believe that he was unable to look properly at him, and he knows that he never called her by name, but... How odd it was, to learn that someone was paying attention to you.

"See, you can't even say anything back," Edelgard says, turning her attention back to the ballroom. "What is it? What did I do? No matter how much I try, I can't seem to think of a reason. Why is it that you are so fond of Claude when he is not your student, and yet I..."

Edelgard stops herself, hand over her mouth as if to stop the wave of words from spilling out of her lips.

His feelings for Edelgard were indeed complicated. Byleth cannot say that he liked her, nor that he was fond of her, nor that he did not dislike her. 

Byleth wonders why she cared so much about his opinion.

"Why?" Edelgard says, and then Byleth realizes that he has said the words aloud. "Would it be odd if I said that I wasn't sure about the reason myself? I don't know. No matter how anyone acts... There's no way that someone wouldn't be unaffected by knowing that someone they... Hm, ignore me. You would not understand."

"Then tell me everything," Byleth says. If he was good at one thing besides swinging a sword around, it was listening. "I would hear you out, Edelgard. I would listen."

Of course, his reasons for listening were selfish, but a part of him still- 

Byleth stands and brushes imaginary dust from his slacks, offering the imperial princess his hand. "We can talk over a dance," he tells her, and watches her watch him.

Someone laughs, jovial and loud, over the music in the ballroom. In that precious moment, Edelgard takes his hand. For some reason, Byleth did not think her hand would be this small. "Okay," Edelgard says. "Okay."

.

"Ahem, ahem," Sothis declares, standing on a chair for some reason, as Byleth walks into the ballroom, still hand in hand with Edelgard. Her eyes flick to the sight of them, and immediately he drops Edelgard's hand as if it were hot coals.

_ **You are aware who that person is, right?** _

_Unfortunately, I know._ Flashes of a dagger rip through his memory and Byleth wants to wrap his arms around himself and shudder quietly.

Sothis clears her throat again, and the sound seems to race through the hall, the gathering of people falling deathly silent as their gazes fall into the goddess.

"Thank you for attending this ball," Sothis tells them, voice loud and clear from any corner of the room. "It has been many a year since I've experienced anything like this- and thus, my experience with dancing and singing was limited. Still, thank you for attending."

Claps ring out through the hall. "I'm sure that you have been endlessly tormented with your thoughts this evening," Sothis continues, one finger pressed against her lips. "Thoughts such as 'is this really the goddess?' 'Why is she here?' 'That cannot be her, right?' 'Why has she gathered us all tonight?'"

The gathered people jump when her voice changes with all of the voiced thoughts, matching the people in question who have thought them.

"I was going to wait until a certain group arrived," Sothis continues, back in her regular voice. "But I have grown impatient, and the night had grown long. It is not healthy for you mortals to stay awake so long into the night."

Sothis closes her eyes briefly. "I am Sothis," she announces. "Some know me as the beginning. Forgive me for abandoning you for all this time. I am sure that many of you hardly even care about me, but I have returned to Fódlan for one reason- and forgive me for killing the mood, as you mortals put it, but I can no longer stay silent.. This land will soon be thrown into war soon."

Murmurs break out. Sothis sighs as she listens in on them. "It may sound completely mad," Sothis says, voice even, "but I assure you, I have awoken for that reason alone. The land, drenched in blood, weeping and begging and praying, and the people, cast aside into yet another war that truly does not involve them. I ask, if you are particularly averse to blood, or if you have young children, please close your eyes or their eyes for a moment."

She splays her hands out in front of her, palms down, and suddenly the ballroom changes into-

"Grondor field," Byleth murmurs, and then jumps at the sight of Dima, so far away. Thankfully, he was unrecognizable from the prince of now, especially since Dima was currently stabbing someone so hard with his lance that they were torn in two.

People scream. It's expected. Byleth is simply numb to it, now.

Sothis waves another hand, and another scene is revealed- demonic beasts spilling into the town surrounding the church, knights armed in red setting the town ablaze. Byleth averts his gaze. In the distance, he can see the chasm that he had fallen into.

When Sothis waves her hand again, the scene fades. "I have seen a future in which hegemony and destruction prevail, where every child is dyed red, where your sons and daughters take up arms at young ages. Know that I am here-"

The door to the ballroom is forced open, and on the other side, a man falls in. Sothis frowns at him. "I'm a little in the middle of something," Sothis says, a little annoyed that she was not able to reveal who was behind the beginning of the war yet. "Unless there is something important, please do not interrupt."

The man raises his head, and Byleth sucks in a breath. Blood was trickling down his forehead, and he was holding his arm in a way that showed that it was clearly broken. Sothis' frown becomes more prominent, and she waves a hand thoughtlessly, clearing the man of his wounds and stitching them together with magic. But that was not so surprising as was the man himself-

"Rodrigue?" Byleth demands. This night was getting more and more absurd.

"Your Majesty," Rodrigue attempts to say, tripping over his words. "Your Majesty!"

Dimitri escapes the pulls of the crowd to meet Rodrigue halfway, and the man stumbles into his arms, still weak despite the healing spells. "What about my uncle?" Dimitri demands, then shakes his head. "More importantly, are you okay?"

Ingrid too splits off from the crowd and grabs a goblet of water for Rodrigue to drink. She passes it to his hands and he drinks as if he's never had water in his life. 

Rodrigue struggles on the words, and then makes an expression that makes him seem older than he was. "No," Rodrigue says, through a cough. "I was calling for you, your Majesty. Your uncle has been assassinated."

"_What?!_"

Byleth's heart knows the face that Dimitri is making, and hurries through the throng of people to his side.

As if on cue, the doors spring open and a horde of demonic beasts spill into the ballroom, making everyone scream and scatter. Some folk are frozen in fear. The others begin to shriek. Even more nervously trample on each other in their attempt to flee.

It seems quite ironic, but time seems to stop for Byleth, and he stares.

One beast dashes forward and catches Rodrigue, who was closest to the door, in its mouth. He had pushed Dimitri away, and was caught as a result. His scream seems to stop everyone in the ballroom, and they all stare in distant horror.

Byleth does not even think when he uses a pulse. Once again, Rodrigue stumbles through the door and is healed, but Byleth dashes across the room and pushes him away from the doors. 

Sothis nods at him, jumping from her chair. "Everyone, please run out of the doors to the grounds," Sothis says, and when no one moves, she pushes them through the doors herself with magic. It is almost comical, how they find that there are demonic beasts there, because of course there are.

Sothis rolls her eyes and glances over at Byleth. He nods quietly, ignoring how sick he feels.

.

He finds himself still spinning with Dimitri on the dancefloor when he opens his eyes.

Byleth tangles his fingers with Dimitri's own and leans in. The boy goes stiff at the attention. "Would you go on ahead to the goddess tower, Dimitri?" Byleth asks, mentally mapping out the halls. "I will meet you there."

"Uncle has yet to arrive," Dimitri says, eyes still dazzled. Byleth has no idea why, save for maybe the light of the chandelier.

** _Say please very nicely, and he'll listen._ ** __

_Sothis, that sounds ridiculous._

_ **Just do it already.** _

So Byleth leans in, still very confused but trusting of Sothis. "Please? For me?" 

Dimitri walks into a wall as he stumbles off of the dancefloor and towards the goddess tower, but at the very least he'll be away from those demonic beasts.

It does not matter. Ingrid is the one to get snatched up in those beasts' jaws this time, to protect Rodrigue. Byleth curses very loudly, and then uses a pulse.

.

Jeralt sends one of their mercenaries to help Rodrigue stand. They are eaten. Byleth doesn't even blink before using a pulse. 

The next time around, no one is eaten, but Flayn is trampled and receives a very dangerous injury.

Byleth runs a hand down his face. He's wasting so many pulses. Instead of sitting with Edelgard during the next pulse, he runs back to his room and grabs the Sword of the Creator.

When he returns, the beasts have already begun to feast.

.

Byleth grabs his sword before he runs off to the ball this time. He dances with Dimitri, and then Sothis, although they both are more solemn, his students, his father. He grabs some macarons instead of a goblet and talks to Edelgard, offering her one. She takes the sweet quietly.

When Sothis makes her announcement, Byleth makes sure that everyone lingering by the gazebos are pushes into the ballroom. He is not sure that the demonic beasts stationed there did not kill them first. Byleth does not want to know, but it was better to be safe.

Even though Sothis begins her speech early, Rodrigue always appears before Sothis can talk about the involvement of the Empire.

Byleth steps forward, and cuts a long line down through the air when Rodrigue is healed. The air pulses with energy, and then flares- and suddenly, through the cracks, Remire village appears on the other side.

"Please listen to me, and do not question what I am about to tell you," Sothis says. "Go through that portal if you desire to live through the night. Demonic beasts will soon spill through the doors, and you will die horribly if you do not leave now. Please go."

No one moves, likely because of the suddenness of her announcement. Sothis rolls her eyes and levitates every single person in the room, before forcing them through that crack between dimensions. Just like Byleth, she is already so very tired of this situation.

The Blue Lions screech when they are lifted as well. "No!" Dimitri yells, as he is about to get forced onto the other side. "We can fight too, professor!"

Sothis scoffs. "You don't even have weapons," she drawls, and the last of the crowd is pushed inside, save for his father and the mercenaries, which always had weapons on their person.

"Report," Jeralt says, before the demonic beasts enter the room.

"I've lived through this a handful of times now," Byleth says, lifting his sword. "Demonic beasts appear on the other side of every door leading out from the hall and kill many people."

The mercenaries are confused, but take up their weapons as well. Jeralt places a hand on Byleth's shoulder, and that seems to be the cue for the beasts to spill inside the room this time.

.

Byleth is too tired to think of the pulses that he had wasted before, so he counts as if they had never happened in the first place.

One. Jeralt takes a blow for him and dies quickly.

Two. Three mercenaries are felled in one swipe of a beast's claw.

Three. Somehow, Sothis is caught off guard and has an arm taken off. She yells at him incessantly when he uses a pulse, stating that she can grow the arm back quicker than the beast had ripped it off.

Byleth's headache is only getting worse.

Four. Jeralt pushes a mercenary out of the way from being crushed by a hunk of stone that a beast rips out from the floor.

Five. Jeralt takes another blow for Byleth.

Six. Jeralt takes another blow-

Seven. Jeralt-

Eight.

_Nine..._

Maybe it was just this moon, this period of time, that cursed his father to such terrible fates. Maybe it was Byleth himself, that somehow brought this fate upon his father merely by existing.

On the tenth attempt, Byleth finds himself taking Edelgard's hand once again, and watches the same events take place. Sothis scolds him for sending them so far back. The demonic beasts appear sooner than any other attempt, and one takes a bite out of-

And Byleth-

Byleth-

Every single of Byleth's emotions seem to fray at the ends. The part of him that was never human seems to swallow his humanity whole. A gaping, dripping, oozing part of him thrums and pulsates with anger and agony. It sinks into the floor and kisses his fingertips and grips into his chest and dislodges each rib with the delicacy of a sword. He is reborn in the pit of anger he was carved from, and is just as promptly sent crashing down to earth in a broken heap.

Byleth is done. He is so done. He is sick and tired of seeing Edelgard's face nearly every single day. He is tired of having her even near his father. He is tired of having Dimitri cast his step sibling forlorn looks when he knows that Edelgard will not spare him even a single thought, or even the briefest glance.

Byleth is tired of sharing space with the person who had caused so much suffering across the land. He is tired of feeling. He is tired of having his ears plead mercy and his scabs beg to be picked and is tired of seeing Dima in every shadow and is tired of crying and is just simply tired.

"_You,_" Byleth snaps, whirls on Edelgard. "What have you done?! What are you doing?!"

Edelgard looks shocked at his sudden outburst. "What are you talking about, professor?"

Byleth snarls. "Goddess above, you are the most infuriating person alive. I tried to stay my hand, because of Dimitri- But I don't care! I don't care anymore! You disgust me beyond compare!"

He gestures to the chaos of the room around them, the screams of the guests and the demonic beasts prowling the floor for kill. "Are you happy? Have you weighed their lives properly against the lives of the future you apparently would kill to build? Are you content standing by the wayside pretending like you hadn't even inadvertently caused this? Will you be content when Sothis is dead? Will you be content when you kill Dimitri, and Claude, and Rhea so they do not stand in your way? Will you be content when everyone here tonight is dead?!"

Edelgard looks as if she has been slapped across the face. Byleth wonders if she feels as raw as the blunt carved out space between his ribs.

And just as suddenly, the rage leaves him. "Forget it," Byleth says, numb now. "You won't remember this, anyway. Good for me and for you, I suppose."

"Professor, I-"

"Be quiet," Byleth says, monotone. "You're not worth it. I should have killed you the moment I laid eyes upon you again. It was my mistake for letting you live so long." He takes in the demonic beasts with tired eyes, counts the bodies piling up, and watches some of the knights and students desperately attempt to fend off the beasts without their weapons and proper armor. If Byleth closes his eyes he is able to find himself five years in a future long past.

How could he have ever possibly thought that _talking with Edelgard, of all people,_ would ever work. His mistake. He should have known that someone like her would not listen. Never would. 

Byleth is tired.

"If my father or Sothis or my students do not live through this night, even after all of my pulses," Byleth says, fully wiped of emotion, "I will carve a bloody path through your beloved imperialist country and place your head upon a spike for all to gaze upon."

Edelgard raises a hand to him. It retreats mid-motion, and she closes it into a fist and holds it to her chest. Byleth is shaking so hard he hardly notices.

Byleth watches Ashe take a blow for a child and uses a pulse without a second thought to his rage, spilling from his chest like ink blooming in water. The weight in his chest had been slightly relieved when he had raised his voice to Edelgard, but it was not enough to relax his shoulders. He brings a hand up to his throat subconsciously and scowls.

Edelgard von Hresvelg.

Byleth thinks of Dimitri and curses aloud. He wants to kick and scream and rip his hair out.

_Dima's expression becomes determined. "I want to try and-"_

"Shit..."

_"-speak with her. I know-"_

Byleth closes his eyes and swears. He places a hand against his eyes and counts to ten. If he pretends, he can imagine his father there, helping him count his breaths.

Once again, Byleth Eisner is wiped blank. Any useless emotions are pushed aside and into that dripping pit of darkness.

"Right," he says, adjusting his gloves. "Eleven down, or whatever number I am on now." Sothis is already fighting. What timeline even is this one? He needs to jump into the fray.

He can see that many of the attendants have fled, presumably led by his students. Some students, and all of the Blue Lions remain, protecting those that were unable to flee.

Edelgard is gripping his arm this time around. He doesn't even remember what they were talking about prior to this. He does not even know if his students are safe in Remire. He spots them, herding those who cannot fight into a corner and bringing their hands to retaliate with magic. Where was Rodrigue? What had happened when his mind blanked? "Professor, are you-"

Byleth does not shake her off, but luckily his father comes to his rescue and gently pulls him to the side.

"Lemme take this one, kiddo." Jeralt says. Byleth does not question him. He speeds off to fight.

"Heya, kiddo," Jeralt says, turning towards Edelgard with a casual expression. "You've been busy, huh?"

Edelgard's face remains blank. "Unfortunately, not many people have asked me to dance."

"We can cut this whole shit out," Jeralt says, with a sniff. "I know what you are, Flame Emperor."

Immediately, Edelgard's entire demeanor changes. "You know," she says, not even trying to deny it. "Why are you telling me this? Why haven't you told the Archbishop yet? Don't tell me you want to join me."

"Ah, save it," Jeralt says, raising a hand. "I'm not into imperialism. And I just wanna talk, alright?"

Edelgard does not relax. Jeralt sighs and debates on how to begin such a topic.

"I just don't know why you want to start a war," Jeralt says, and Edelgard flinches. "Ah, shit. Didn't mean to blurt that so fast. It's okay. Byleth can do his thing."

A shadow passes over his face. "Ah, I can do the talking myself, if that's what you want. Crests, or whatever, right? That's what's up. Feel free to interrupt me at any time, 'cause I'll probably be wrong on some counts. Maybe all of them. I'm getting old."

"As long as humans exist," Jeralt tells her, monotone, "there will be no such thing as a peace anyone can agree on. And perhaps the Crests are to blame, or whatever you claim, sure, whatever! But you have to understand that most folk hardly know what Crests even are! I've walked the land for many years, kid. Does the average farmer curse the Crests because of a drought that had hit his land? Does a merchant blame magic for the reason why his wares aren't selling? Are the townsfolk taking up their pitchforks because someone specifically with a Crest raised taxes? Goddess above! Sure, Crests sound like a handful, kiddo, I get it-"

"You don't-!"

Jeralt glances at his son before sighing and running a hand over his eyes. "Alright. Whatever helps you sleep at night, kiddo. Hate the church or whatever, but seriously, can you leave my son and the common folk out of this? Hate to break it to you, kid, but guess what- I'm no historian, but I'm pretty sure war, and strife, and torture and all that terrible shit came before the Crests ever did."

Edelgard takes a moment to compose herself and take a deep breath. "Aren't you over simplifying things, Captain? Aren't the Crests what keep the average folk from rising up? Do you not feel for the ones who have been hurt by the Crests?"

Jeralt looks Edelgard dead in the eye, and then gazes around the room, the screams and the smeared blood across the floors. "Can't say I do, no. "

The imperial princess tilts her chin up as if she's made her point, but Jeralt isn't done. "Can't say I care much about anyone that isn't my son," he says, simply. "At least I'm being honest about who I'm really in this for. And besides, something that really sets the common folk apart from you noble types is money, of course. Money, and education. Crests, yeah, but don't act as if that is the sole thing alone. I hate Crests too, believe you me. But the church alone doesn't uphold the Crests' values- heck, I know that Sothis hates them, and that the Archbishop was actually- ah hell. I need to shut up."

"I don't know what you're implying," Edelgard says, shoulders straight.

"Is that so?" Jeralt says. "I pity you."

Edelgard's eyes narrow. "What is your goal here? Are you attempting to stand in my way? I won't stand for it."

"Goddess, you're so young," Jeralt says. "Just a little bit younger than my son, huh, and already writing bodies off as numbers rather than people. It's a shame. But still, I can't believe you're the imperial princess. Can't believe people would follow you when they're all just pawns on a chess board, numbers to be forgotten, homes to be invaded. Long live imperialism and damn those that come before, and all that glorious shit."

"Are you insulting me?" Edelgard asks, looking thoroughly lost.

"Nah, just talking to myself," Jeralt says, scratching at his cheek. "Oh, that's right. You asked if I had a goal."

Reflexively, Edelgard seems to reach for a weapon. Jeralt chuckles at the sight. "Relax, kid. Anyway, so recently I've been having some tea time with that step brother of yours, and we've been talking about feelings. Since my son isn't comfortable with any of that stuff, I gotta step in, right? Ah, I'm getting off track. So we talk about his feelings, and emotions, and thoughts, and I've gotten him to write some of his thoughts down, and we destroy whatever he's written by the end of our talk. I think it's therapeutic or something."

Edelgard is watching him like he's particularly slow. Jeralt shrugs his shoulders at the sight, watching out for Byleth in his periphery. "So, he writes down his feelings, and we discuss ways to handle the worse ones. You asked if I had a goal? Why don't we do something similar? We'll sit down, and Byleth can make some tea, whatever flavor you want. We can have some cookies too, if you like cookies, or whatever kinda dessert you want, and we can talk about your destructive feelings or whatever's eating you whole. That kid and I have only been doing that for the better part of a month, but at least that kinda stuff isn't getting bottled up within him."

Edelgard sputters at him, cool composure thrown at the oddly casual conversation. "Are- I- Are you perhaps daft? You want to sit over tea and- and- talk about feelings? My emotions? How is that supposed to help anything? And my step brother? I don't have a step brother, are you mad?"

It is Jeralt's turn to look at her as if she were slow on the uptake, and then he groans. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he calls out to his son. "Byleth? I think I fucked up. Can you do your thing?"

Byleth is busy weaving in and out of teeth and claws, so Jeralt sighs and decides to take the plunge. Besides, Byleth would likely resolve the problem before anyone could remember this awkward attempt at a conversation. Even Jeralt's gruff persona is a bit off kilter, due to the fact that he was attempting to have a conversation with his son's would-be killer. "Yes, your step brother. Dimitri."

"That's impossible," Edelgard blurts. Jeralt shrugs at her.

"You nobles are odd about family lines," Jeralt tells her, "but yeah. Dimitri's your step brother. Surprise."

"Even if he was my 'step brother,'" Edelgard says, mocking tone curling around the words. "How would you know anything about it?"

Jeralt rolls his shoulders carefully, and relishes in the cracks they make. He glances back over to his son, and makes a decision.

.

Byleth sighs at the beast's dying attempt to end him. However, their teeth truly were dangerous. Two of them, as large as Byleth's forearms, had become somehow stuck in his chest as Byleth wrenched the beast's jaw from his body. One beast had dropped a slab of stone onto his head, or at least, had attempted to, but it had missed and landed square onto his chest, knocking the breath from his chest and likely dislodging some of his ribs in the process. Sothis had lifted that stone from his chest, but the damage was already done.

Still, Byleth stands.

He runs under the belly of a beast, and drags his sword from its chin to its grotesque tail, and is quick enough so that the beast does not crush him. They crash to the floor, cracking the stone tiles.

Sothis had made quick work of the majority of the beasts, with Rhea at her side, so there were only two left. 

Byleth wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as he assesses the situation. At least with battle, none of his emotions are sprawled at its altar. One beast lowers its head to snap at the heels of a student and Byleth runs toward it, whirling around and stabbing the beast through its eye. It gurgles, spewing something pitch black and smelling of death onto his clothes. He does not care, but he is afraid that Sothis will.

One more.

Byleth can use a pulse if necessary after he checks if his loved ones is safe.

He is made up of people, patterns of emotions all stitched onto the quilt that makes his soul, and if there happened to be a tear, Byleth would have to do nothing but sew himself up again.

Laughing, although Byleth has no idea why, he pulls the one of the sharp teeth from his chest and the sound of it is hell on his ears. It is wet, and messy, and his entire body seems to gurgle and groan at the sharp pain. "Aha," Byleth laughs. Nothing is funny. He cannot help himself. Everything hurts, and Byleth is so tired. "Ahahaha."

Theoretically, Byleth knows that he is not supposed to pull out weapons and other objects from his wounds lest he bleed out. But he's too tired to care, and far too angry. With less fanfare, he rips the other out of him.

A noise is leaving his lips. For some reason it sounds like a chuckle.

In his peripheral, he can see more and more figures leaving the ballroom. Good. Only a few yet stand in the area, circling the room cautiously. Byleth hopes that the Blue Lions have already left, and are safe.

Blood drips down his clothes, soaks into the fabric, and dampens his skin. The wounds are superficial, compared to his ribs, but they have left massive holes in his chest. Byleth thinks that his body is able to be seen through. Healing can wait. He wants to vent this anger in a way that he can control and make his own.

He can hardly recognize any other being save for the demonic beast prowling around. The last beast stands in front of him, roaring. If Byleth listens closely, it sounds like tears, like sobbing.

Byleth calmly walks up to the beast, outwardly serene, and swings. It dies far too quickly for his liking. He stabs the sword down several times to assure himself that it is dead, that it can no longer harm, nor kill, nor consume. Byleth had seen blood around its jaw. He hopes that no he loves is dead. It's no longer screaming. Byleth stabs the corpse again for good measure. It makes a slick sound. 

He is vaguely aware that his wounds hurt.

Byleth decides to take a quick nap after this.

When he turns his head, he sees Sothis there, looking sleepy. Byleth can feel himself smile. She is always sleepy, these days. "Sothis, you're not hurt, are you? _Ahahahahahahaha_, I am very tired. I think my ribs are broken." He doesn't even think the words leave his mind.

"Byleth," she says, quiet. For some reason, her voice is the only thing that is audible to him over the persistent roaring in his ears. "Byleth."

His wounds are throbbing.

The goddess tips over, eyes rolling into the back of her head, and Byleth screams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY YALL IM SORRY IM SORRY IF YOU NEED A REMINDER CHECK THE NOTES THAT HAVE ALWAYS BEEN THERE AT THE BEGINNING (TECHNICALLY END) OF THE FIC
> 
> I KNOW SOME PEOPLE ARE GONNA BE REALLY ANGRY AT ME FOR MULTIPLE REASONS, AND SOME PEOPLE ARE GOING TO BE ODDLY PLEASED AT ME. EITHER WAY IM SORRY
> 
> angst squad this one's for you dhdhdhdhd
> 
> HAHA LOL THE DEATH FLAGS I PUT UP ALL AROUND THE CHAPTER FOR JERALT? SIKE ITS SOTHIS AND GUESS WHAT IF BYLETH GETS HURT SO DOES SHE LOLOLOLOL uhh im sorry. forgive me 
> 
> YES MARIANNE IS HERE ON A BRIGHTER NOTE. AND ON A LESS BRIGHT NOTE YES BYLETH IS KINDA LOSING IT FROM USING PULSES AND SEEING PEOPLE HE LOVES DIE A LOT. aaaa
> 
> next time on godspeed: the aftermath of the ball. byleth makes a choice knowing he will be apart from someone he loves no matter what. 
> 
> AGAIN IM SO SORRY IM GONNA HIDE NOW BUT WE REALLY IN IT NOW YALL IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT CAN WE UHHH GET SOME MOTHER FUCKING PLOT UP IN THIS BITCH
> 
> thank you so very much for reading ♡
> 
> byleth/dimitri B rank  
byleth/dedue B rank  
byleth/felix B rank  
byleth/annette B rank  
byleth/ingrid B rank  
byleth/sylvain B rank  
byleth/mercedes B rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt B rank  
byleth/ferdinand B rank  
byleth/lysithea B rank  
byleth/cyril C+ rank  
byleth/flayn B rank  
byleth/caspar B rank  
byleth/dorothea C+ rank  
byleth/marianne C rank
> 
> byleth/jeritza C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/sothis A rank  
byleth/claude C+ rank  
byleth/yuri ??? rank  
byleth/edelgard C rank  
byleth/rhea C+ rank


	43. prayer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> henlo yall! may i just say that i was endlessly amused about the response to the last chapter rhdhdhdhhdd got me dying in the mother fuckin club except not actually in the club because you shouldn't be going to clubs now even if they lift the restrictions where yall are okay?
> 
> this chapter is fucking long as well for literally No Reason wtf is wrong with me

There were many nights in which Byleth had dreamt about his father's death, bleeding out onto the grass like his heart bleed there too, and died alongside the man who had loved him unconditionally and raised him despite how difficult it must have been. For all Byleth speaks of metaphors, the truth is this; he has no heart, and it does not beat steadily in his chest, nor does it will him to live.

His heart, as it exists, entirely as a metaphor, is not his own. It prevails solely for the people he loves, and as he watches his father gaze up at him one final time, he knows that part of his heart will remain adrift there, in that puddle of blood that Byleth had desired to will back into his father's chest, to run fingers through it and push it back inside, as if that would do a thing, as if it could heal his wounds.

There are nights in which Jeralt crawls over to Byleth's feet and begs for help. There are nights in which Jeralt drags himself over that grass, fingers puncturing through dirt and decay and demanding why he had to die. There are nights in which Jeralt curses Byleth's name. Those are the easiest. The worst nights are when Jeralt tells him that he wishes he was never born, and that he had died in his stead.

Byleth cannot help but agree with him. He spends what seems like lifetimes trapped in those dreams. Sometimes Dima is there, running fingers through Byleth's hair and pressing cold lips to the apple of his throat. Other times Dima is quietly mocking him- wondering why his almighty professor was unable to save even one life, the life of his father.

Some nights Jeralt tells him that he loves Byleth as Byleth is pulled away, screaming himself hoarse. 

He doesn't scream much. Nor does he talk much. It's easy to fade into the background, no matter what new title is bestowed upon him. 

The Blade Breaker's son. The Ashen Demon. Professor. No matter what name he took upon, they were all the same. Byleth is not a person unless he was affiliated with others.

Byleth is nothing save for that rainy day, knelt onto the grass, drained of Divine Pulses and left astray.

Similarly, Byleth feels the same way now.

Helpless, and afraid, and far too young, watching someone he loves crumple to the ground and lay still.

"Sothis," Byleth says.

"Your wounds," Rhea is saying, oddly fixated on Byleth, rather than her mother. He supposes that she knows that Sothis had fled into Byleth's mind. She must know. She has to have known. She has to know that Sothis is oddly quiet and still.

Byleth runs a hand over his eyes.

Whatever was the point of having the power to change fate if nothing changed? What was the point of him being sent back in time if Byleth was somehow making everything worse? What were these Divine Pulses for, if not to help others?

Why didn't he just kill Edelgard the moment that she appeared on his doorstep?

He hated having emotions. Byleth should have just become the vessel that he was intended to be. It would solve many problems. If he could kill his heart, he could kill that girl. If he could kill his hesitation, she would have already died.

Byleth hates himself. 

How useless. How abhorrent.

Sothis should have found a way to send back someone else. He should find a way to use a Pulse to send him all the way back to the moons long passed and stab Edelgard as soon as she even thought of coming closer to Remire village, his father, Dimitri, and himself. Should have watched her bleed out quietly in the darkness of the forest to assure that she was dead. Byleth should have measured her breath, and her pulse, and then cast her body somewhere they could find her and cry and gasp as would befit an imperial princess.

Or perhaps Byleth had to die to be sent back into the past. He did die rather quickly in his past life after all, and what an ugly and useless death it was, choking on his own blood and struggling around that dagger.

He wouldn't mind dying to test out his theory.

Byleth hardly has to tap into that power to know that all of his Divine Pulses for the day are gone. How stupid of him. He can't stop shaking.

"You're having a panic attack," someone is saying, brushing hair away from his face.

"Don't touch me," Byleth says. The hand immediately retreats.

Off in the distance, there are more voices. "What's happened to the professor?" Another person demands, sounding dangerously close to becoming angry. "Did they hurt him? Why does he look like he's on _fire?_"

"Everyone... down now," a different voice says. Part of their words are getting cut off. "Can someone take her body... Empty now."

"Professor..."

"...I think they must have..."

"Oh my _goddess, his chest!_"

It's hard to focus when it seems as if all of Byleth's senses have shut down. He frantically feels around the area, vision blurry and foggy at the edges, for his sword. Without it, he cannot protect anyone.

"Byleth?" A voice asks. Yes, Byleth. That's him. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"Ribs," Byleth replies, on instinct. His father had always asked him if he was hurt after battles, and it was of the utmost importance that everyone would reply so that those who had the most critical injuries took precedence. "Broken ribs, and... two punctures in my chest... I... I think..."

Where was he? Better yet, what time was he in? Where was Sothis? Where was...

Byleth swallows, and it is dry. "But Sothis and father... Where...?"

"I'm here," the voice says again.

The sound of cracking and splintering seems to split his ears, and he winces. "Ears," Byleth says, and then realizes that isn't sufficient enough. "Everything is too loud. My chest hurts."

Another _boom_ shakes Byleth's core. People seem to scream at the noise.

"A lightning storm," someone says again. "I think it may be the professor causing it."

"That's not possible."

Lightning? That may explain the ringing in his ears. Byleth fights to cover them, hands flying up and desperately hiding his ears as if that could dispel the sound.

"Ah..." Byleth breathes, unseeing. "Father, father, father, father, father, Sothis, Sothis, Sothis, Sothis, Sothis... Where are you...? Someone please go and save them... I cannot... I cannot... Dim... Di-"

He barely feels it when he hits the floor.

.

Byleth wakes up.

This isn't a particularly unusual situation or circumstance, but there are two people hovering above his bed with unreadable expressions- one, his father, whose grim face turns relieved as soon as Byleth blinks at him- and two, his perhaps dead fiancé who is dripping shadows all over the bed sheets and is looking rather murderous.

He blinks and the vision of Dima fades quickly, but not before confusing the hell out of Byleth.

"Sothis," he gasps suddenly, and oddly enough he grasps at his chest as if he were able to pull her out. "Sothis, where..."

Jeralt takes one of Byleth's hands and grips it tightly. "Calm yourself, kid. You're in the infirmary. You've been asleep for the better part of a day," Jeralt informs him, answering Byleth's wordless questions, as if to hopefully keep him calm.

Byleth is not calm. He feels around for his broken ribs and the punctures in his chest and is not relieved even when he finds them to be healed. 

Sothis, Sothis, Sothis, Sothis, _Sothis...!_

There. 

Sothis was there.

Faint, as if she were sleeping. If he closes his eyes and concentrates, she is there upon the throne in his mind, curled up into a ball. Uselessly, Byleth reaches for her until he is able to see the rise and fall of her chest. A soft puff of air leaves her lips, and she does not seem to share Byleth's once broken ribs and punctures.

Sothis looks peaceful.

Byleth breathes a sigh of relief, then looks over his father for any outstanding injuries. "Are you okay, father?" Byleth asks, eyes flickering over Jeralt's body, his unmade hair, his dark circles. "No injuries?"

"I think I had a heart attack when I saw you keel over, if that counts," Jeralt tells him, and Byleth winces. "Do you know how chaotic it was in there? First, Rhea started shrieking when Sothis fell over, and then she frantically ran over to your side- not mention those students of yours and the mercenaries. Which, by the way, no casualties on their end, so don't worry."

"I'm okay," Byleth says. Jeralt makes a face.

"Byleth, you are _glowing_ like coals on an open flame," Jeralt informs him casually, and Byleth takes the time to look down at himself. 

He is actually glowing, as if the sun lit him from the insides, if fire had made a house in his chest. A flicker of red and gold seems to hover over his form like a blanket. It reminds him of the day he had first used the Sword of the Creator to tear through time and space- backlit from a fiery sunset and bursting with emotions that were not all his.

"I don't know how to stop glowing," Byleth says softly.

"Can't you just," Jeralt says, and makes a weird wave of his hand. 

Byleth understands him, however. He thinks to himself that he would like to stop glowing and the light fades from within him. A sigh runs through the father son pair.

"You really, really scared me," Jeralt says, looking far older than Byleth had thought him to be. He frowns at the sight, feeling oddly vulnerable. Something rumbles in his chest, and-

A literal storm cloud appears in the room and begins to rain over the bed next to Byleth's, flashing with thunder and splashing rain everywhere. Jeralt and Byleth stare at the cloud wordlessly for the minute that it lingers in the air before it dissipates and seems to swallow itself into nonexistence.

They look at each other.

"So, another thing," Jeralt says, far too casual. "When Sothis got knocked out and you were understandably upset about it, there was a huge thunder storm in the ballroom. Inside."

Byleth merely blinks at him.

"Rhea thought it was you, because you were glowing," Jeralt continues, "and I totally thought that was bullshit, but I guess it really was you."

"I can't control weather," Byleth says, unsure.

Jeralt shrugs. "Hey, I think controlling weather is far more normal than you know. Time. Aren't there blizzard spells?"

"But they only last for a short moment in battle with an intent to attack," Byleth says, as if Jeralt wasn't the one to tell him these exact words when they were training together.

"I am going to have to apologize to Manuela about the bed," Byleth comments, monotone. Unconsciously, he keeps checking up on Sothis, chasing her surge of energy every so often to find that she is still asleep. 

"It's just some wet blankets," Jeralt says, "we can get some from the laundry at a later time."

Byleth is about to ask where his students and the mercenaries are when three figures sweep into the room. Rhea appears first, and Byleth hardly recognizes her without her massive headpiece- she has let her hair down without much fuss, and looks rather tired. Seteth appears in the door too, beard oddly bushy. By those two, Byleth is expecting Flayn to be the last set of footsteps, but much to his surprise it's Macuil that walks in.

He looks much like his siblings, oddly dressed down and ruffled, but the sight of him has Jeralt get to his feet from where he was sitting on the bed.

"Get the fuck out of here," Jeralt commands.

Macuil glances at Byleth's father and raises an eyebrow. "You've been keeping very interesting company, Seiros."

Surprisingly Rhea whirls on her brother with a look, but not before glancing apologetically at both Jeralt and Byleth. "Leave us," Rhea commands. "I didn't say that you could come into the room. You can perform your tasks adequately from there. Is mother still there or not?"

"Since when I have taken orders from you?" Macuil says, but his voice is tinged with the slightest hint of amusement. "Of course she is still there. Mother is more resilient than that. If they really were in a life or death situation, I trust that mother would have taken the vessel's body."

Byleth barely has time to blink before Jeralt is across the room in a few strides and unleashes a fierce punch to Macuil's face, one he cannot avoid. Something crunches under his father's fist.

He is prepared to use a Divine Pulse, but Byleth frowns. Something about the Pulses were odd. Was it the number? Or was it...

Surprisingly, Macuil laughs, wiping blood away from his nose. "You humans truly are pests, but you've found a good one."

"Good enough to bash that ugly nose of yours in-"

"My deepest apologies on his behalf, professor," Seteth apologizes, cutting ofc Jeralt's angry ramble, and with deceptive strength, he pulls the man away from the room. "I shall take him from your sight."

As Seteth drags Macuil away by the arm, Byleth meets Macuil's eyes. His face is unreadable and unpleasant for a moment, before he seems to find whatever he is looking for in Byleth's face and winks.

Jeralt huffs angrily, shooting a rude gesture after Macuil's back.

"Forgive me," Rhea says, sitting on Byleth's bed and tucking strands of hair away from his face with a familiarity that is odd to him. "You have no other outstanding wounds, do you? Any headaches, odd dreams while you were asleep?"

"No," Byleth says, and watches Rhea sigh in relief.

"Do you feel her?" Rhea asks, oddly intent. There is no need to ask who 'her' is.

"She's asleep," Byleth tells Rhea, and watches her composed expression crumble. She looks livid, and although her face was likely not directed to him but rather their circumstances, Byleth feels uneasy looking at her.

"May I tell you a secret?" Rhea asks, with an expression that says that he was going to hear it whether he likes it or not. Jeralt closes the door to the infirmary at the words, and Byleth nods.

"There was once a group of people made in mother's image," Rhea tells him, jaw clenching firmly. "A race of beings who were immortal, and hard to kill. If they attained any wounds that would be fatal to mere mortals, they could fall asleep for a very, very long time set that they could be healed."

Byleth may not have the best intelligence and instinct with emotions and words, but he understands her meaning. A thought occurs to him. When he fell into that chasm, did he...

"You're saying you don't know when she'll wake," Byleth says softly.

Rhea shakes her head. "But it is no matter. All of the attempts to bring her back thus far have not been fruitful. And yet here you are," she says, still quietly focused in a way that makes Byleth uncomfortable.

"Uh, Sothis isn't going to steal Byleth's body for her own use," Jeralt announces, like it's a threat.

"No, she wouldn't," Rhea says, her voice a little strange. "Professor, does she seem to have any wounds that were more severe than you had previously mentioned? Even fatal ones that would not normally affect her?"

Byleth shakes his head, and the line of Rhea's shoulders relax. 

"Do not worry, professor," Rhea tells him, evenly. "Stressing yourself out may damage mother. Please leave our attackers to me- when I find out who summoned beasts upon not only mother but our students and honored guests, I shall show them the true wrath of heaven. I think that I have an idea to wake her faster. Now, if you will excuse me- I must find a certain man for a chalice. It didn't work previously, but now that the professor has begun to..."

With that ominous message, Rhea marches out of the room, sweeping past Jeralt with nary a glance. Byleth has a feeling that he was not supposed to hear about the last words.

Jeralt watches her go before shutting the door firmly and walking back over to Byleth.

"Tell no one that you're hosting her, okay kiddo?" Jeralt asks, voice firm. "The story is, after your students ushered the guests and students out, is that you exhausted yourself slightly killing all of the beasts, and that Sothis has disappeared from the common eye in order to look after you as well as find out who dared lay a hand on one of her subjects- or however the story goes."

"Someone is going to use that to their advantage," Byleth warns.

Jeralt shrugs. "And another thing," he says, meeting Byleth's gaze. "I kind of told Edelgard that she had a step brother- Dimitri."

Byleth stares incredulously at his father. "Don't worry," Jeralt says. "I think after I told her she got some kind of headache and a look in her eyes, or something- but let me be clear, if she tries anything, I will kill her myself."

"You should have told me," Byleth says.

"You can't keep it a secret forever," Jeralt says. "And besides, you weren't in the mindset for a Pulse."

"I ran out of them," Byleth confesses. "I was being a fool."

"Don't say that about my kid," Jeralt says, and makes a softer expression when Byleth turns an incredulous expression on him. "Aw, Byleth. Don't beat yourself up. Even if someone had a million chance to fix something, they would still probably use all million. And you've got a heavy burden on your back."

Byleth turns away, still unhappy. It wasn't like in the past, how Sothis had become one with him, and yet he knew she was still there within him. It was entirely different, because it was something he could change, and yet was incapable of.

"And that student of yours..." Jeralt begins, running a hand through his hair. "He has to return to Faerghus soon for his coronation. According to Rodrigue, yeah. The king was killed. On his way to the academy with the duke, margrave, and royal guard in tow, a massive amount of demonic beasts descended upon them and seemed to only attack the royal carriage. The duke and the rest of his men was commanded to flee after it seemed they were fighting a losing battle. The margrave showed up when you were asleep- oh boy, the look on some of your students' faces- and gave Dimitri something."

Byleth kicks off his blankets. "I have to go see them," he says, as Jeralt calmly picks the blanket back up and throws it over his son.

"No, you don't," Jeralt says. "Besides, Seteth probably already told them that you were awake. They were banned from the infirmary because they were making a scene."

As if on cue, the Blue Lions stumble into the infirmary, chests heaving. Annette squeezes her way through the door and gasps when she sees that Byleth is awake. 

She takes a running start and practically pounces on him, bringing him into a tight hug. The Blue Lions all stumble after her, touching his arms and examining his face and breathing sighs of relief.

Surprisingly Rodrigue enters the room as well, looking tired but not hurt. Byleth spares him a nod.

Byleth does a mental head count and frowns when he doesn't see Dimitri or Dedue. But again, as if on cue, they step through the door together and Byleth sucks in a breath at the sight.

It wasn't so much what Dimitri and Dedue looked like, although they did look tired. It was the fact that Dimitri- young Dimitri, was wielding Areadbhar.

The bed next to Byleth's catches fire and the Blue Lions begin to scream. Byleth immediately thinks of another rain cloud to disperse the flames.

"Oh, goddess," Byleth says, as Dimitri stares at him, dark circles prominent underneath his eyes. The sight of that weapon makes Byleth feel a bit woozy, so he does as Sothis would and falls asleep.

.

It is late when Byleth wakes again. The bed next to his has mysteriously disappeared in his sleep, but his father is still there, sitting on a chair with a flask in hand. There are flowers at his bedside. Gladiolus flowers to be exact, their bright pink petals still visible in the dim of the room. There is also a note that Byleth would read if he wanted to exert any effort to pick it up and squint at it in the darkness.

Somehow his father always knows everything about him, so Byleth isn't surprised when he begins speaking, although Byleth has made no signal that he was awake.

"I had a very nice dream once," Jeralt says. "Your mother and I stole away from the academy when she was pregnant with you and we fled."

"The church?"

Jeralt sighs, dipping his head as if the remains of the dream would be steeped in his shadow. "Everything. Not just the church. The Alliance and its shitshow of new leaders. The Empire and the slow path of colonization they left in its wake. The Kingdom and its frigid winters to match the way they treated their children. We took a boat with the mercenaries and fled."

"Where did you go?" Byleth asks, hanging onto his words as if he too could be basked in that dream. 

"Anywhere. Nowhere." Jeralt says. "I never picked up a weapon again, except to chop wood or cut up food. Your mother gave birth safely and stitched embroidered flowers into your clothes. Your first weapon and only weapon was a fishing spear, but you preferred a rod. We were fishermen. Florists. Anything but mercenaries. We grew potatoes and onions and you learned how to bake. Your mother turned out to be a talented blacksmith, but she never used her own craft. The mercenaries followed. Some started families. Sometimes in that dream you had a sibling that for the life of me I cannot remember. Most of the time it was us and a tiny little cottage with a rickety door and even a small cat to ward off rodents. Sometimes the roof had leaks or the cat ran off or you cried over a cut on your knee. Sometimes winters were harsh and one of our mercenaries got into a fight and sometimes our shovels and axes went missing."

Byleth closes his eyes and watches the dream brand itself into his memory.

"How cruel," Byleth whispers. 

"Tell me about it," his father confesses. "I dunno if it's a dream or a nightmare anymore."

"When is your birthday, father?" Byleth asks, staring into the darkness. "You never told me."

"Don't remember. Maybe summer? It wasn't winter, probably. I can't recall anymore."

Byleth tilts his head to accept the answer. "And how old are you?"

"Old," Jeralt says.

"I feel old," Byleth replies, drowsy. 

His father sighs and pulls him closer, shifting the blanket over them. "You're still young," Jeralt reminds him, as if he really did need the reminder. And sometimes Byleth did.

"Is that so?" Byleth asks.

"Yeah," Jeralt affirms, very soft. "You'll always be my kid, no matter how old you get, though."

Byleth falls asleep after that, feeling the tension seep from him. He loves his father very much.

.

Byleth walks into the classroom with a perfect mask on and a stray strand of hair falling into his eyes and immediately walks out when he sees Dima hunched over Dimitri's back like a shadow.

He closes his eyes and counts to ten, ignoring the confused calls from the students inside of the room. He has lost all composure, apparently. What in the world was wrong with him? Byleth knew that he was above letting his emotions leak out of him as though he were a droopy little tea bag with its innards drained from him, its worth sucked from within.

When he finally gathers the courage to walk back inside, Dima is still there. There are tears dripping from his eyes and creating a shallow yet wide body of water that coats the entire floor and licks at the tables and chairs. A shallow circle of oddly coloured liquid around Dima's feet turns the area around Dimitri's desk a shocking shade of blood red.

Dima meets his eyes and smiles, waving cheekily. There is a dagger through his neck, and the wound seems to have coagulated and closed around the blade. At the very least Byleth does not wrinkle his nose at the sight.

"Welcome back!" Byleth hears Dimitri say, dark circles still very prominent.

Byleth blinks and is very tired when the sight of him does not disappear.

"Goddess fucking dammit," Byleth says aloud, when he realizes that he can spare a pulse or two, no matter how strange they feel. He has the sense to realize that his students are staring. "I am actually going fucking mad, aren't I?"

"Professor?" Mercedes inquires, her expression a mix of thoughtful and a polite confusion. "Is everything alright?"

Byleth takes a deep breath and uses all of that air to respond. "Actually, Mercedes, I am seeing the ghost of my fiancé hovering over Dimitri's chair, and guess who it was- you cannot guess that, actually- and I know that he is not there in reality because I accidentally abandoned such a future when I died horribly and every moment that my head is empty shadows leak out of my ears and into my life."

The Blue Lions stare. Byleth absently cracks his knuckles. "Anyone know any spells to cure illusions?" Byleth asks, oddly talkative. Like his nightmares boiling and bubbling out from his shadow, words seem to simply free themselves from his lips and splatter onto the floor where they crack horribly and irreparably. "No? I suppose not," Byleth says, wanting to bite off his own tongue. Instead of doing that, he uses a Divine Pulse.

"How does one," Byleth says instead, as indigo lights sparkle underneath his eyelids. "Deal with feelings?"

The Blue Lions glance at each other before looking back to their professor. "Weren't you betrothed to someone?" Ingrid asks carefully.

"Ah, I did not mean romantic feelings," Byleth replies, realizing his mistake. "I mean feelings in general. Sadness, anger, and the like. I want them to stop."

"You want them to stop," Felix says, incredulously.

"Yes," Byleth agrees. "I do."

"If you ever find out how to get rid of your emotions please let me know," Lysithea jokes, and then frowns when Byleth does not react to the quip.

"Feelings make us human, professor," Sylvain muses, something thoughtful in his eyes. "So it's not something you can just- turn off, but goddess, wouldn't that be useful."

"Am I human?" Byleth asks.

"Uhh, yeah," Caspar says. His tone makes Byleth feel very unsure about having brought up the topic. "Duh, what else could you be?"

Linhardt raises his hand. Byleth calls on the boy even though there's no reason for it, Linhardt would blurt out the words either way. "Are you part god?" Linhardt says, sounding far too excited about the prospect.

"My father is not a god and I don't think my mother was," Byleth says, but he frowns. "That's right. I'm sorry about the odd topic."

"There's nothing wrong with being upset," Ferdinand tells him, looking determined. "It would not be proper to cast emotions away and lock them into a neat little box, professor." The class nods along.

"You've heard our troubles, too," Dorothea offers. "It wouldn't hurt to trust us with yours."

"Would you like to talk about it?" Dedue offers. "Is this about Sothis? We have heard about her."

"She won't leave you alone for long," Ingrid says, looking confident about that fact. Byleth looks away.

He splays a hand over his chest and is relieved when there is an absence of movement of sound. "I am okay," Byleth says. "For now, I wait. Since Dimitri's coronation is coming up, and likely most of you will have to attend, I will create some workbooks for the journey."

The Blue Lions groan.

"Who is going with the prince, whether out of obligation or otherwise?" Byleth asks. "And do not lie, please."

Reluctantly, some of the Blue Lions raise their hands. Ferdinand looks eager about his hand being raised, though. Byleth counts Ingrid, Sylvain, a very angry looking Felix, Dedue, Annette, Mercedes, Ashe, Ferdinand, and Caspar.

"You too, Caspar?" Ashe asks.

"Yeah, I thought it could be fun!" Caspar confesses, face bright. "But I guess we still get homework..."

Byleth writes down their names. Presumably the rest of them are staying for their own reasons- Lysithea, Cyril, Flayn, Dorothea, Linhardt, and Marianne. 

"I'll have those workbooks ready for your use," Byleth says, softly. "Please do make sure to take care on your trip."

Dimitri raises his hand, but then lowers it immediately when Byleth parts his lips to call on him. The prince fidgets in his seat.

"Just ask," Dedue murmurs.

"Are you..." Dimitri trails off. "Are you feeling better, professor?" From his wince, it's clear to see that it isn't what he wanted to say. 

"Yes," Byleth lies. "Today will be self study, for I am going to make you all take exams before you leave." Groans fill the air.

"It's my fault," Lysithea blurts, entirely out of nowhere, and suddenly she is a shade of purple pink and her eyes are watery. "It's my fault that Sothis has to be apart from you!"

"No," Byleth tells her, honestly. Why did she sound as if she were reciting the lines to one of Manuela's favorite novels. "How could that be?"

"It was!" Lysithea declares, hand over her chest. "Sothis must have become weak after getting rid of my Crests! She could have totally gotten rid of the demonic beasts with one pinky otherwise- oh-"

Lysithea immediately slaps a hand over her mouth as if the words had flowed from her lips without thought. The class falls silent.

"I wasn't supposed to say that," Lysithea blurts.

"_What?!_" Sylvain demands.

"Um," she stutters, and takes a huge breath. "So she looked at me and said that she actually knew that I was not healthy because of the Crests I possessed and she said she would get rid of them for me and she actually did and then she told me not to tell anyone and I just told all of you-" Lysithea takes a huge breath.

"I mean," she says, panting, after a few moments of heavy breathing to calm herself down. Her chest heaves. "You didn't hear anything," she declares, beet red, and flees the room.

Immediately, Sylvain and a few others go after her, chairs clattering against the floor as Byleth and the rest of them stare wordlessly. "Class dismissed," he says, after a beat. "Please go... and study."

He had no idea that Sothis had done that. Byleth sighs.

.

An arm is thrown around Byleth's shoulders and the panic that sets in momentarily is enough for the bush next to them to catch fire. The fire is somehow green. Byleth doesn't understand why, but he's more distracted with putting out the fire rather than why it exists.

"Extinguish yourself please," Byleth tells the bush. It absolutely refuses to listen. How rude. He then pictures water putting the fire out and out of nowhere a wave of salty water lands onto the bush and splashes everywhere, soaking Byleth's boots and armor.

Claude, who had just thrown his arm around Byleth, whistles at the sight as he uses his free hand to wipe his soaked hair away from his face. "Damn, teach. Didn't mean to scare you!"

"I wasn't scared," Byleth tells him.

The boy's expression becomes cheeky. "Oh yeah? What's that, then?"

"I was angry someone had touched me without permission," Byleth says, sighing as he reaches into his cloak for his handkerchief. The handkerchief is soaked, too. He carefully puts it back. "But it's fine because it's you."

Claude drops all of his weight leaning on Byleth, the curve of his lips turning up. "You need to warn me when you say things like that," Claude tells him, swooning so dramatically even Byleth could tell that it was false.

"About touching me?" Byleth asks. "It is fine."

Byleth gently takes Claude's arm off of his shoulder and restarts his trek to his father's office.

He's surprised when Claude calls out to him. "Professor, are you okay?"

The answer is on his lips, but Claude's sincere and surprising concern for him makes Byleth pause. He turns around to see the boy there, head tilted in consideration.

"No," Byleth tells him, honestly.

Claude nods. "Just remember that your best friend is here for you if you wanna spill those juicy secrets," Claude calls, hands cupped around his mouth.

Byleth acknowledges him with a tilt of his head. 

"Oh, and," Claude calls, just as he is about to turn and walk away. "When the knights of Seiros were searching the are for clues about the perpetrator, they found an odd stone. Weird, right? And a bunch of the nobles that came to the ball are sending their guards too to help. Whoever orchestrated this- I wonder if they're not afraid to make any enemies."

The look on Claude's face means Claude thinks that Byleth knows exactly what the stone is- and perhaps he does. But he isn't going to tell Claude that.

Byleth turns away.

"You should make a move," Claude calls out. "It'll be boring if you're the only one on the defensive!"

He turns around, considering. "You should, too," Byleth informs him, and the smile that grows on Claude's face is a pleased one.

.

The walk to his father's office is made longer by the absolute silence making a home in Byleth's head. It's suffocating, and Byleth picks up speed the longer he is alone. He wants to see his father. 

It was as if the moment Sothis had fallen into her deep slumber was the exact moment that Byleth's thoughts and fears had decided to appear. Or perhaps Sothis' constant presence in his mind was what was preventing any such haunting from occurring, banishing dark thoughts with just her presence alone.

Fumbling with the door, Byleth is not pleased to see a stranger in the room with his father. By this point Sothis would have said something about the man's appearance or demanded why he was there, but-

Byleth shakes his head slightly to rid himself of the thought. He was not, after all, technically alone in his head.

"Byleth! Come over here!" Jeralt says, looking pleased. "This was your mother's friend."

The man turns and Byleth vaguely remembers his face. "Hello, Byleth. I don't remember if we've introduced ourselves yet when we met before, but my name is Aelfric. Do you remember me?"

Byleth stares at the man for a moment and sees a dozen shadowed hands claw at his ankles. He nods instead of answering.

"Ah, you've met?" Jeralt asks. He clinks the side of his flask against Aelfric's shoulder, almost playful. The man laughs at the contact. 

Byleth wants to scowl at their familiarity.

"Yes. In front of Sitri's grave some weeks ago," Aelfric explains, only briefly looking back at Jeralt before his full attention lands on Byleth once again. "We did not have the chance to have a proper conversation- I may have startled him, which was entirely my fault."

Jeralt takes a swig of whatever is in his flask thoughtfully. "...Is that so?"

Aelfric nods. "Yes. Byleth sure does take after his mother, doesn't he? The hair, his face and eyes..."

"Thank the goddess for that," Jeralt adds, a little quirk to his lips. Aelfric laughs politely at the quip. Byleth does not feel like joining in, especially since Dima is hovering over his shoulder and whispering nonsense into his ear.

Byleth is not looking at him but he can practically sense his leer, taste it rotting underneath his tongue, invading his senses. 

Aelfric's expression suddenly turns more solemn. "I have heard about your situation," he says suddenly, and the brevity of his words has Jeralt move ever so slightly in front of his son.

"What do you know?" Jeralt demands, voice level. 

Aelfric suddenly makes an apologetic face. "Forgive me, I should not have started the conversation with something that sounds so ominous. I actually don't know much about your situation, but I have overheard some things- have you ever heard of the Chalice of Beginnings?"

.

Byleth has a massive headache and a loud ringing in his ears that refuses to leave. If Sothis were here, she would pull at his ear and whine but make them go away, making him relaxed enough for sleep, fighting away any darkness that plagued his thoughts at night.

If Sothis were here-

If Sothis were here...

If Sothis were here, she would be yelling at Byleth for writing this letter.

After meticulously writing out problems for the Blue Lions, he sits by the dim candlelight at his desk and presses the quill so hard onto the paper that it tears through to the other side.

The Chalice of Beginnings... It was not something that Byleth has ever heard of, not in this life nor his past one. Byleth wonders if Sothis knew what it was, but then aggressively ignores the thought. If he feels strong emotions he may set something else on fire, or worse yet, see Dima in the edges of his vision, bubbling in shadow and grinning sharply.

Unfortunately for his health, Byleth has always been a gambler. It was why he used so many Divine Pulses- once again, he really does think that Sothis should not have granted him access to that power.

Byleth can see Dima in the corner of his eye again, eyes an odd shade of violet even though he knows that his eyes were blue- his quill dances upon the paper furiously. If he spends any more time looking at a false Dima conjured up by his memory, then he would forget more and more of his future past.

He swears quietly under his breath. After the Empire attacked the church, where did they attack next? Did Cornelia frame Dima for murder during that time? When did Rodrigue protect Dima from a fatal wound? Who was the girl that had killed him, and what did she look like? Was he really going to...

Byleth fists a hand in his hair and sighs, pushing away from the desk. This was a very, very long letter. There were letters to his other students too, but none possessed the length that Dimitri's letter have- moreso, they were affirmations and advice.

Byleth is a coward.

He folds up Dimitri's letter neatly, pressing down the edges and running his fingers down the lines of the folds to make sure that the letter fit within the confines of the envelope.

Byleth shoves the letter inside of the envelope before he can change his mind, and quickly seals it with wax. He does not have a wax seal stamp, so he pushes the wax down haphazardly with the side of a tea cup.

To be honest, he wants to throw the letters into the fire. He's written one for Claude as well, and one for Sothis just in case something happened, but it is the first time that he has given words to some of his feelings.

He picks up Dimitri's letter. On a whim, he holds the corner of it just about the flickering of the thin candlelight flame- not close enough to set it on fire, but enough that a simple breeze could ruin the whole letter.

For a moment he leaves the letter there before he presses it to his chest. Shaking his head, he turns the envelope over and writes Dimitri's name on the back. He will give the letter to Dimitri, or die trying. He may actually die before Dimitri reads the letter. The future was so uncertain, even for him, who had the ability to control time.

Byleth is counting on him.

There is a knock at his door.

"Come in," Byleth says, hiding Dimitri's letter in a stack of papers.

Surprisingly, despite the late hour, it is Dimitri. Sweat drips off of his forehead and he is struggling to catch his breath, as if he had just ran here, or perhaps was training mere moments ago.

Dimitri's eyes stray to his desk and Byleth has to kill the urge to hide everything on it or even set it on fire.

"It's quite late, so forgive my intrusion," Dimitri tells him, so quiet Byleth has to strain his ears to hear him. 

Byleth shrugs, and Dimitri takes that as a chance to speak. "Are you feeling alright, professor? Did you feel faint at the sight of a weapon, or was it just Areadbhar? Is... Is the goddess truly alright? What about your father? Have you been eating properly? It feels as if we haven't seen each other in so long."

Byleth blinks at the sudden onslaught of questions. He decides on the safest one. "We see each other every day," Byleth tells him, as if Dimitri did not know that. "Are you feeling okay? You did just lose your uncle.."

The prince- no, king, makes an expression that Byleth cannot read. "We weren't that close. But... Hm. Yes, I suppose I am fine."

"Really?"

Dimitri looks relatively surprised at the question, and his shoulders slump. "I am not fine," he admits, quietly. "Allow me to change the subject, professor."

Byleth chews on the inside of his mouth before nodding.

Dimitri sighs, and steps properly into the room so he can close the door quietly. "I know that it really has not been so long," he says. "But it feels as if it's been awhile since the ball. Like it has been a lifetime since I've danced with you."

What an oddly specific choice of words. "Dimitri," Byleth says. "That wasn't even that long ago."

"When you see someone frequently and constantly throughout the day," Dimitri retorts casually, "it is odd to not be in their presence often, especially if they are close."

A beat. "We are close," Dimitri says, but it's more of an affirmation to himself, so Byleth decides not to answer. "So, may I ask you something?"

"Yes."

"Will you come to my coronation?" Dimitri asks, and Byleth can feel the ground drop from underneath him. "I understand that it will be a long trip to the Kingdom, and that someone needs to look after the other students, but I would really appreciate if you were to come. I want you to be there, professor."

There is, then, a vision of a magnificent looking Dimitri kneeling in front of a statue of the goddess and swearing fealty to his people, flower petals adorning the floor, an elegant crown upon his head. In one hand, he would hold Areadbhar, and he would place the other over his chest in a bow, although kings did not bow to anyone, apparently-

Calamity is born amid them, wide eyed and wobbly, smoke and darkness pouring out between their feet. The gap between them is the home of storms, of futures unwritten, pages crumpled in one fist and smoke in the wind. 

There is that moment again.

To call it a moment would be a terrible crime. To call it an experience would be an insult. It had happened when Byleth had first turned back time, bathed in violet light. It had happened again in the hall in which he had chosen the Blue Lions, and had drastically changed his life from then on. It had happened again on the day his father died. It had happened when he fell down that chasm as if it were his own chest, it returned to him when he died and laid there in his blood.

He had felt that again when he was abruptly brought back to life, and rather than feeling relieved at first, he had felt as if he were a marionette cut from its strings. Like a fish flopping around uselessly out of its element.

Like a dead body given breath.

Byleth knows the feeling of _it_ as though he were returning home. He was grateful to it, and yet he spent the rest of his days fitfully hoping and pleading and praying that it would no longer cloak itself upon his shoulders and hang there quietly, like a shroud.

His life was about to change once again thanks to it. 

Byleth was not afraid of it. How could he be? He had already lost people he loves. He had seen them all die in terrible ways. They had all haunted his dreams with a patient care. He had already died, once. What was left to be afraid of when he had already experienced it all?

"I cannot go with you," Byleth says, and drops Dimitri's hand.

It hangs there for its rebirth in the space between them, and then is gone again.

"Oh," Dimitri says, finally.

"It is not that I don't want to," Byleth tells him. "I really wish to go. But there is something that I must do here."

There is a part of him screaming that he does not wish to be parted from him. Byleth really hopes that he has not accidentally started a fire. He wants Sothis to reaffirm his decisions, or yell at him if they were not well thought out. He has a feeling that this one is a mix of both.

Dimitri searches his expression for a moment, looking disheartened. He nervously scratches at his cheek, and Byleth feels awful. "I understand, professor."

"I'm going to send the mercenaries with you," Byleth says, and before the prince- _king_ can protest, Byleth places a finger on his lips in a sudden show of boldness.

"Allow me to do this for you," Byleth tells him, and hands him the workbook. The letter makes the binded papers thicker, and the weight of it makes Byleth want to shake. 

The letter falls out and Byleth hurries to pick it up, tucking it back into the binded papers, making sure to treat the wax seal gently. Dimitri stares down at the letter. "What is this?" He asks, making a curious expression.

"I trust you," Byleth begins. Dimitri looks shocked at the sudden declaring, but then nods at him seriously. "Do not open this letter until after your coronation."

Dimitri stares into the face of Byleth's stubborn seriousness and purses his lips together, grim. "I understand. I will not open this letter until then, I swear on my family's name."

Byleth nods at him. "Hm," he begins, thoughtfully. "When you return, shall we meet at the goddess tower?"

Dimitri stammers, bright red. "Professor, y-you-! I, uh... Oh, goddess. Okay. Yeah, okay. Of course!"

"I need to tell you something when you return," Byleth continues, despite the fact that Dimitri has begun to look very ill. 

"Of course," Dimitri repeats, clutching the stack of papers to his chest. He smooths them out as soon as he realizes what he has done, looking quite flustered. "Will you meet me there as soon as I return, professor? Will you promise me?"

Byleth allows himself to smile at him. "I promise," he lies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY YEAH IT'S ASHEN WOLVES TIME YEAAAHHHHH
> 
> and guess what? this time byleth will have jeralt as he and some others that i will keep a secret as he goes on an epic chalice quest while trying to keep his sanity lol
> 
> oh my fuckign god im so nervous cause
> 
> next time on godspeed: dimi gets his turn! we splitting up povs baby! dimi and byleth POVS let's gooooo! IM FUCKING SCARED CAUSE IT'S JUST BEEN BYLETH AND SOTHIS AND JERALT FOR TWO SECONDS BUT I CAN DO IT but in all seriousness- byleth is flirted with as the world seems to crumble around dimi. look forward to it!
> 
> im kinda busy this week so there is a small chance that i will not update. hopefully not tho aaaaaaa 
> 
> thank you so very much for reading! ♡ this was totally a buildup chapter rhhdhdhd
> 
> byleth/dimitri B rank  
byleth/dedue B rank  
byleth/felix B rank  
byleth/annette B rank  
byleth/ingrid B rank  
byleth/sylvain B rank  
byleth/mercedes B rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt B rank  
byleth/ferdinand B rank  
byleth/lysithea B rank  
byleth/cyril C+ rank  
byleth/flayn B rank  
byleth/caspar B rank  
byleth/dorothea C+ rank  
byleth/marianne C rank
> 
> byleth/jeritza C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/sothis A rank  
byleth/claude C+ rank  
byleth/yuri ??? rank  
byleth/edelgard C rank  
byleth/rhea C+ rank


	44. daydreaming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY GUYS I MISSED YALL VERY MUCH AND IM SO SO SO SO SORRY ABOUT NOT REPLYING TO THE COMMENTS YET THIS PAST WEEK HAS BEEN KINDA WILD AAAAA
> 
> so i was recently reading up on king shit and imperialism and stuff because plot stuff is coming- ANYWAY not important but i wanna be somewhat educated on the subject cause my entire repertoire of that kinda knowledge is from merlin (tv), six the musical, and the frankly embarrassing amount of manga i read that have titles like 'the duke and i got married one day and it was an arranged marriage but we fell in love somehow cause we are the main characters and also i used to live in the modern age' if you know you know dhdsdhdhd
> 
> here is the chapter! it has exactly 7777 words which i am kinda proud of for absolutely no reason dhdhdhdhd thanks for waiting!

"It is late," Dimitri tells Byleth carefully, without moving. He seems quite content to stand there and acknowledge the time without doing anything about it, so Byleth says nothing.

Byleth nods in acknowledgement, carefully pouring both of them some chamomile tea. He has noticed the boy's twitchy nature ever since Byleth had declined going with him, and Byleth wants to help him calm down.

It is not as if he does not wish to go. But first, he must take care of something.

Byleth motions for Dimitri to sit on his bed as he hands him a steaming cup, the liquid splashing quietly against the rim of the glass. "Thank you, professor," Dimitri says, and takes a sip. "I just cannot seem to calm down. Thank you for allowing me to spend a little more time with you."

"I enjoy your company as well," Byleth tells him, sipping at the tea. He frowns down at the cup. He's steeped it far too long. "But it is rather late."

"I can sleep in the carriage," Dimitri says. "It will be a long time until we meet again."

Byleth drinks in the sight of the king as he takes a careful sip of his own tea. "How long will it take for you to reach the Kingdom?"

"On our finest horses?" Dimitri comments, looking thoughtful himself. "Without taking a break, about six days. With breaks in between, perhaps a week and a half. We don't want to push the horses, after all."

"Mm," Byleth agrees. 

"What are you working on now?" Dimitri asks, eyelashes fluttering in the hazy candlelight. 

Byleth carefully pushes a few of his notes aside to reveal a chart of his students. "I think that Dedue can perhaps ride a wyvern now, if he so chose. And if Lysithea were to push herself a tad harder than she already has been, then perhaps she can wield magic on a pegasus."

"You're a true miracle worker," Dimitri compliments. "Dedue has no such experience with steeds."

Byleth shrugs at him. "Mobility is important," he comments, scratching out a few more notes. "By the way, what do you think of horse riding?"

"I enjoy it," Dimitri responds, punctuating the sentence with a sip of tea. "I've done jousting before. It was rather amusing at first, but it pales in comparison to actual fighting."

Byleth nods and writes down another note.

It is much later in the night when Dimitri has finished his tea. The king, still yet to be crowned, gathers himself up from the bed almost reluctantly and hands Byleth his tea cup, looking as if he were about to say something in order to delay his departure.

"Professor, I..." 

"You're still growing," Byleth cuts him off, almost fond. He puts down his quill quietly. The pair had been sitting in companionable silence, with only their breathing and the soft sounds of ink to paper as background noise. Dimitri had wanted to stay a little bit longer, and it was hard for Byleth to say no to him, especially since he had no idea when he would see him next. "It isn't good for you to stay up so late."

"You're hardly older than I," Dimitri tells him petulantly, but backs off. "I understand your worries for me, professor. Good night, then."

Byleth watches a stray drop of tea drip from the rim of his tea cup instead of watching him leave.

Dimitri stops at the door, hand tracing the wood patterns with a gloved finger. "Sweet dreams, professor," he comments, and slips through the door with a smile before Byleth can say anything.

"Good night," Byleth tells the empty air.

Byleth has only just begun to tuck away his ink and quills when Dimitri hurries back into the room and closing the door with so much force it rattles ominously on its hinges.

He leans against the door as if there were soldiers about to storm it down.

"Professor there are about a handful of the Knights of Seiros outside of your door and I am out past curfew," Dimitri says, all in one breath.

Byleth looks at the king in thought. "Dimitri, they aren't about to hurt you, even if you are out past curfew," he says, with a blink. "And if they do I'll beat them up."

Dimitri scratches at his chin as if embarrassed by such a statement, then gestures to the door and steps aside for Byleth to take a peek.

There are indeed five knights standing ramrod straight just by his door, armed to the teeth, eyes on him. Byleth fights the urge to reach for his sword.

"...Can I help you?" Byleth asks, desperately trying not to look as though he is surprised.

"Greetings, professor!" One of them greets. He is holding an axe larger than his body. "I'm the gatekeeper's bro- ah, we can save the introductions for a better hour! The Archbishop asked us to protect you!"

Rhea? 

"Protect me," Byleth says, deadpan and yet completely incredulous.

"Just during the night," he agrees, nodding as if proud of himself. "With that scary demonic beast attack, she told us to look after you when you sleep! Oh, but not in a creepy way, promise! We are here for you! We heard about how gallant you were, professor, and obviously you can take care of yourself. But it doesn't hurt to have extra protection, especially when you are sleeping!"

"Wow," Byleth says, drier than sand.

"If anyone approaches you, we will definitely take them into questioning!"

Byleth looks back into his room discreetly to see Dimitri, who was technically a king, staring back at him with comically wide eyes. He sighs and is about to attempt to ask them to leave when footsteps make themselves known.

All five knights brandish their weapons with a metallic sound. "Halt!"

"Uh, hi, what the hell is going on here," Jeralt says, raising his eyebrows.

"Captain Jeralt!" They greet, as one. They lower their weapons respectfully at the sight of him. 

"Am I allowed to say hi to my son, or...?" 

The knights all bow quietly, stepping aside to let him pass without fuss. Byleth is about to open the door wider to let him in when a hand appears above his head to slam the door shut.

Byleth whirls around to see Dimitri practically sprinting back to Byleth's bed and throwing himself under the covers.

He stares at the king as his eyes peek over from the sheets.

"How are you so calm, professor?" Dimitri hisses through clenched teeth, attempting to hide underneath the piles of blankets Byleth had carefully amassed. 

Byleth blinks at him. "Oh, it's alright. Father would not think that we were having illicit relations. I would not lay a finger on you nor have sex with you. That would be horrible of me, and frankly inappropriate and terrible were I to do so. You are my student."

He wants to pat himself on the back for the reassuring words. There was no universe or timeline in which he would take advantage of a student, much less a minor- but then why did Dimitri make such a face?

Perhaps Byleth should work on being more reassuring or trustworthy.

"Oh," Dimitri says, after he's choked into the sleeve of his shirt, "okay. But when-"

"I'm coming in," Jeralt says, and pushes through the door. Dimitri fumbles with the sheets and makes a sound of pure surprise. Jeralt hardly spares the boy a glance. "Heya, kid."

"Hello, father," Byleth greets, and is awarded a pat on the head for it. Jeralt nods at Dimitri quietly and the boy turns an alarming shade of pink.

"Greetings, captain Jeralt," Dimitri says, sounding distinctly squeaky.

Jeralt sighs, leaning against the door, barely acknowledging him. "So, as you can see, the entire academy is on total lockdown 'cause of what happened. So if anyone catches the princeling sneaking out after curfew, it wouldn't look pretty. At least I can walk around freely due to my status as the captain of the knights or something."

When it seems as if Byleth's father is not about to make a huge deal over the king in his bed, Dimitri relaxes and looks less like a shy maiden who had been walked in on accidentally on their first night. 

Sothis is not there to pinch him for the horrid comparison, so Byleth does it himself.

"Perhaps Dimitri can sleep in Dedue's room," Byleth says, not wanting to presume anything.

"Would you mind if I slept here, professor?" Dimitri blurts, at the exact same time.

They look at each other and Dimitri practically vaults out of the bed. "Forgive me for being so presumptuous, I am terribly sorry-"

"Dimitri," Byleth tries to cut in, as the king pats himself down as if covered in dust.

"You've been awfully kind, and I have been nothing but rude-"

"Dimitri."

"Sorry about everything, I'll just get out of your hair now, haha-"

"Dimitri."

"Professor, thank you for treating me to such a lovely evening-"

"Dimitri."

Finally, finally, the boy stops to look at him, chest heaving. "Professor... Sorry about that unsightly outburst."

Byleth regards him with the soft tilt of his head. "You can stay the night if you want," Byleth says. "In fact, it would be much more simple for everyone if you did."

The king opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, and finally shuts it with an audible clack of his teeth. 

"Byleth has about a thousand blankets here anyway," Jeralt says, and Dimitri jumps as if he had forgotten Byleth's father was even there.

"It won't be... be any trouble?" Dimitri asks, somewhat timid. Byleth feels himself soften slightly at the sight of him. 

"I've shared sleeping spaces with the mercenaries, and we have slept together before on the road," Byleth tells him, valiantly not thinking about sharing a bed with Dima. He is not going to think about it, and isn't going to think about holding his hand in bed, nor the soft look on his fiancé's face as he curled up under the sheets... 

Besides. Dimitri was not Dima.

"Yes! That's right! Haha, you are very correct," Dimitri says, as Byleth busies himself by putting away his writing materials, completely missing the stupefied look that his father sends the king.

Jeralt sighs heavily, and pats Byleth on the head again. "Ah, I'm tired," he declares. "Good night, Byleth. Night, kid. No funny business, got it?"

Byleth looks up from his cleaned desk to see that the last sentence is being directed to a red faced Dimitri. He barely catches the shake of his head.

"Good," Jeralt says, halfway through a yawn.

"Night, father," Byleth calls at his retreating back. Jeralt waves without turning around and slips through the smallest possible crack in the door so that Dimitri would not be seen.

The king stands from the bed to stretch and Byleth hums at the sight.

Pushing in his chair, Byleth is hyper aware of Dimitri's gaze on his back, especially when he walks over to lock the door. When he turns around, however, the king is looking away, fiddling with his papers.

"We are leaving tomorrow," Dimitri says, hands carefully cradling the pages and pages of homework and the letter slipped inside. He sets them back down onto Byleth's desk, sure in the fact that he was spending the night. 

If Byleth does not directly look at the letter he can pretend it isn't real. If he does not look at it he can stop himself from tearing the pages up so that Dimitri does not have to look at them.

"It's odd," Dimitri comments, voice as delicate as a cloud, "leaving without the heart of our house."

Without acknowledging his words, Byleth gently motions him to move aside so he can spread out one of the blankets on the floor. Dimitri blinks at the sight. "Oh, professor, please allow me to take the floor."

Wordlessly Byleth blows out the candle and then lies on the floor, taking a pillow from his bed in the same motion. Dimitri makes an indignant sound that is laced with laughter. "Professor!"

"You have a great journey tomorrow," Byleth says, and rolls himself up like a crepe in the thick blanket. "Take the bed, please."

Still attempting to cover his laughter with a shaking hand, Dimitri walks over to the bed. "You really are hilarious, professor. I like that about you," he says, and then trips over Byleth's cocooned body at the words.

"Are you alright?" Byleth asks, eyes still unaccustomed to the dark of the room.

"My body is fine, but my pride is in shambles," Dimitri tells him, sounding like a mix of embarrassed and childishly pleased. There is a sound as if he has sat on the bed.

"Unfortunately there are no spells to fix pride," Byleth informs him, sleepy now that he is wrapped in a blanket. He listens to the sound of Dimitri attempting to make himself comfortable in Byleth's bed.

"That reminds me... Did you really wish for a spell to get rid of your emotions?" Dimitri asks, quiet now.

"Yes," Byleth says honestly.

There is a moment's pause. "I think I would kill for such a spell," Dimitri says, tone so raw and honest Byleth fights back a shudder. "Perhaps your goddess could create one."

"Sothis? Perhaps," Byleth says.

"Perhaps that it is just as well that none exists," Dimitri adds thoughtfully. 

"Perhaps," Byleth agrees. "Life would be much easier without feeling anything."

There is another moment of silence before Byleth speaks up again. "But do not listen to me, Dimitri. I am a terrible influence and not someone that you should go to in regards to matters of the heart. One of your strongest points is your empathy, Dimitri. Do not harden your heart like I have done."

"...Empathy?" Dimitri says, sounding faint. "Professor, you do not have to say such a thing just because I am your student."

A memory flashes in front of Byleth's eyes, a Dima who felt so much for the people he loved that he tore himself up every single day for it, sacrificing part of his humanity for the remnants of those he loved, a Dima who had wanted to dedicate his entire life to revenge because of that empathy, a Dima who insisted on speaking to Edelgard before their final battle.

Despite everything, he did his best to be kind. In _spite of everything,_ Dima did try, in the end.

"No, Dimitri," Byleth tells him. "I promise you, your heart is what makes people flock to you. You are perhaps one of the kindest people I know. I know that your Crest makes you physically strong, but another part of your strength comes from your compassion."

"Perhaps you should meet more people then," Dimitri says, attempting to make it sound like a joke. However, the sudden twinge of sadness to his words twist the meaning, and the mood around them drops miserably.

"Repeat after me," Byleth says.

"Wh- what?"

"Repeat after me," Byleth insists, frowning. "I am a kind hearted person."

"Professor, please..."

"That does not sound like repeating..." Byleth says, an edge to his voice now. He hears Dimitri suck in a careful breath.

"I- I am a kind hearted person," Dimitri whispers, as if he did not believe it. His tone makes Byleth frown.

"Again."

"I am- I am a kind hearted person!"

"I am worthy of love and respect."

Dimitri swallows so loudly Byleth can hear it. "I am worthy... Of love, and of respect."

"And I am trying my best," Byleth concludes, near dramatic. "And I shall strive to be the best person I can be."

"Professor, I..."

"Dimitri."

Another shaky breath. "I am trying my best," Dimitri repeats, finally. "And I will strive to become the... the best person I can be."

Byleth sighs quietly, shoulders relaxing now. He closes his eyes, although having them upon really did not make a difference. "Alright, good job. Good night, Dimitri."

"Professor," Dimitri declares suddenly. "You know, you are worthy of all those things and more, right?"

"Hmm?" Byleth asks, muffled ever so slightly by the sheets. 

"Your heart is kind. You have always been worthy of love and respect. And the Blue Lions and I have been watching you, if you were not aware. You are always doing your best for us. Thank you."

"Good night, Dimitri," Byleth says, sleepily, trying to avoid the compliments by burrowing further into his cocoon of blankets.

A chuckle. "Good night, professor."

.

Byleth wakes and he knows by the amount of light seeping into his room that it is far too early to be awake. Not yet dawn, and yet close enough to it that he would be uncomfortable falling asleep again.

Inadvertently Byleth has fallen into a routine of checking on Sothis' presence every so often, and by every so often he means every half hour and every time he feels anxious. It is calming to know that he is not alone, and that he sports a constant ally in her.

That being said, it is natural for him to panic when he doesn't not see her in his mind sleeping lazily on her throne.

Byleth thinks this is the peak of distress until he sees that Sothis had somehow slumped off of her chair and was now curled up at the bottom of her throne. Somehow.

He sighs at the sight.

Careful not to wake Dimitri, Byleth unwraps himself from his blankets and is immediately rewarded by the king jolting awake so quickly at the slightest noise that even Byleth is surprised.

He watches as Dimitri's eyes flicker around, desperately trying to adjust to the darkness, hands obviously reaching for a weapon. "Dimitri," Byleth says, not wanting to frighten him, "are you alright?"

Dimitri blinks at him.

"I think so," he says, breathlessly.

"I am sorry to disturb you," Byleth says. "But I must speak with the mercenaries before your departure."

The king only watches him, chest slowly rising. He runs at one eye, and Byleth helplessly thinks that such a sight is quite cute simply due to the fact that it was quite out of character for him.

"Oh," Dimitri continues, obviously still sleep addled and drowsy. Byleth watches him bite back a yawn. "Okay. Will you be back?"

"Likely not," Byleth replies, standing up and picking up his blanket as he goes. Instead of folding it up, Byleth opts for the lazy option- and tosses it on top of Dimitri's head. Startled, the king lets out a breathless, sleepy laugh. "I will be there for your departure, however. Our briefings are normally short, but my father's mercenaries will likely make a fuss because my father and I am not following them."

Dimitri nods his head and a slightly rumpled curl of hair, mussed by sleep, falls into his eyes. "I understand."

"The guards will likely be asleep," Byleth continues, slipping on his boots absentmindedly, "they are only mere mortals, after all. Please rest however long you desire, although I am not sure if they will come to check on my room. Sneak out at your leisure."

"Thanks for the blanket," Dimitri says, with the voice of someone that clearly wants to go back to bed.

Byleth hums in response. "Sleep a little bit longer, Dimitri. Please go to bed again before you go."

Running a hand through his hair, Byleth cracks the door open a smidgen and sees that, indeed, his unexpected guards have fallen asleep by the door, although they are close enough to likely wake in the presence of an unwanted guest. Byleth makes a mental note to bring this up with Rhea later.

He completely misses Dimitri's quiet murmur, muffled by blankets and sheets.

"I didn't have any nightmares," Dimitri whispers, looking at his hands. 

.

Byleth tells all of the mercenaries everything right before their departure. Perhaps some of them have already suspected something off about Byleth in the past few moons- their drunken commentary on his hair and their confusion about his sudden orders in battles, but he is assuming that most of them did not think 'time travel' when something was wrong.

They're gathered in his father's office, stoking a lazy fire in the hearth and nurturing cups of weak tea. Of course, the mercenaries look somewhat incredulous at first, but as Byleth continues his story, more and more of them chew on their bottom lips and acquire intent gazes.

When he's done, the sun has just begun to climb over the horizon, light gentle as it casts weak shadows over the world. 

One of the mercenaries stands from her spot on the couch and rummages through a bookshelf to procure a bottle of rum. Byleth glares at his father when he realizes what it is, and Jeralt makes a sheepish expression.

It is dawn. Byleth watches a few of the mercenaries pass the bottle around, the cork gone missing already. He sighs and decides to let this one pass. Most of them could hold their alcohol.

"So, what I'm hearing is that we're going to march down to that princess' room and kill her right now, right?" One mercenary says.

"No," Byleth says.

Of course, the mercenaries begin to protest loudly, liquid sloshing out of the sides of glasses, weak tea and booze alike, and spill all over Jeralt's floor.

"No," Byleth repeats, a hard glint in his eyes. "No, your orders are to protect Dimitri, please. Remember what I have told you about Cornelia, and a girl you may or may not encounter... And even unknown enemies."

They don't seem pleased. Byleth sighs and tells them his plans. They shut up after that.

"I knew he was a deviant looking to tarnish you," another mercenary scoffs, and Byleth has only just realized that he had told them that they were engaged in the future. He knows that he said it, and yet it hadn't really hit him until they all reacted.

"He can't marry the baby of our group," one protests. "He's not good enough! He hasn't even proven himself."

"He has money."

"...Byleth, squeeze his funds dry and then dump his ass."

"Oh my goddess, they're not even married in this time. Leave him alone. And he's like, ten. Byleth wouldn't do that."

"He has to be at least ten, right? Yeah. Maybe hold off on the marriage. But can he hire us?"

"No one is marrying anyone," Jeralt interrupts, folding his arms across his chest. The mercenaries laugh and tease him about being overprotective.

With a deep sigh that hides his relief, Byleth attempts a small smile that does not have to be fake.

.

Annette leaps into his arms the moment she spots him by the gates, and clings to him like a particularly stubborn barnacle. Byleth has bread in one hand and does not want to chance the risk of crumbs getting on her, so he shoves the rest of it in his mouth and stuffs into the side of one cheek, wrapping another arm, a multitude of papers tucked under the underside of his arm, around her to catch her. 

The Blue Lions, looking rather sleepy, follow close behind her. 

Byleth hurriedly chews the rest of his bread, nearly choking on it at the sight of Rodrigue and a miniature army of Faerghus knights taking up the rear. They eye Byleth with inquisitive faces, but not with any sort of judgemental ones. Perhaps they know of him. What an odd thought. The mercenaries appear around the bend, Jeralt leading them, and both groups stare at each other with what Byleth can only describe as 'civil judgement,' or perhaps they were sizing each other up. Come to think of it, where did those knights come from? Did Rodrigue summon them?

The Blue Lions that are not departing with the bulk of the group with Dimitri are saying their goodbyes as if they would be separated for millennia. Byleth purses his lips at the thought of the war that may separate them unwillingly anyway.

"Professor," Annette whines, sounding far too awake for the early hour. She rubs her face against his chest like a cat, and Byleth is glad that he is not wearing his regular armor. "You really can't come? Really?"

"My apologies, Annette," Byleth tells her, and she squeezes him tightly before pulling away with a subtle sniff. He takes the time to drop his papers carefully to the ground. Byleth is not expecting yet another armful of people, but Ashe and perhaps unsurprisingly, Caspar, throw themselves onto Byleth.

"We aren't going to be apart for that long," Byleth lies. 

"Professor," Ashe says, upset.

"Professor, just come along!" Caspar whines. 

Byleth shakes his head, and they both pout with great force, although Ashe seems embarrassed about his pouting. The two of them pull away and huff, Caspar scratching at his suspiciously red cheeks.

"My turn!" Sylvain says playfully, throwing an arm around his shoulders and poking at Byleth's puffed out cheek, still filled with some of the bread. "Bye now, professor."

Surprisingly, one by one, the Blue Lions that are leaving bring him into hugs, or other familiar touches. Ingrid pats him on the back as they embrace, Mercedes takes his hand and squeezes it, and even Felix purposefully brushes shoulders with him, demanding a match when he returns. Dedue nods at him solemnly, and Ferdinand sweeps him up into a bone crushing hug, lifting him off of the ground briefly before setting him down.

When Ferdinand laughs and pulls away, Dimitri is right there behind him. Byleth tilts his head at how small the king looks, for some reason. He opens his arms slowly, just in case, but also not quick enough just in case he did not want contact and would not appreciate the contact.

Byleth is surprised, then, when Dimitri practically runs into his arms, the momentum of him making Byleth spin around, still in his embrace.

He can feel Dimitri shaking imperceptibly in his arms, so Byleth reaches up, slowly once again, and pats his head. "You'll be alright," Byleth whispers, and waits for Dimitri to step away.

Dimitri sighs and holds him another moment longer before releasing him, albeit hesitantly. What is most surprising is that Dimitri bows to him, and as if coordinated prior, the guards, alongside Rodrigue, bow only a moment later. The students all glance at each other, wondering if they should bow.

"...I am not deserving of such treatment from the future king," Byleth says, after shooting a glance over to his father, who is raising both of his eyebrows. 

"Nonsense," Rodrigue cuts in, before Dimitri says anything. "His Majesty has had many tutors, and yet I cannot say that I have seen any that has made such a drastic impression upon him. The mantle you have taken upon, even inadvertently, is not a role to scoff at. His education could very much affect the future of our country."

Byleth, uncomfortable with the formalities, frowns. Was it that big of a deal? His eyes once again dart over to his father, who mouths something at him. "...It is my honor," Byleth repeats, giving sound to the words in his father's mouth.

"You really won't come?" Dimitri asks, quietly. The guards have yet to raise their heads and Byleth is twitchy simply looking at them. 

"Forgive me, Dimitri," Byleth says, and suddenly every single eye, albeit subtly, is upon him. Byleth wants to swallow his tongue whole. 

Dimitri nods at him, and the guards relax. Before anyone can break the tension, Jeralt clears his throat and Byleth wants to hide behind him.

"Don't forget to do your homework," Byleth says abruptly, and some of the Blue Lions, rather, Caspar, groans. He passes out the sheets and carefully makes certain that the letters do not fall out and make themselves known.

Once he is sure that all of the students have their respective letters and work sheets to finish, Byleth tilts his head. "Farewell," Byleth says, voice soft enough to be carried away by the wind. "Safe travels, everyone. Let us meet again."

"Bye, professor!"

"Professor, we'll be back before graduation!"

"Of course we'll be back before graduation, do you know how to count weeks?"

"Don't forget me, okay, professor? You have to promise!"

"Let's spar when I return. I will not take no for an answer."

The Blue Lions are divided into groups for the carriages, and are loaded into them one by one. Byleth insists that at least one mercenary rides with a carriage of his students. He does not trust any of these unnamed guards. The Blue Lions laugh and call him overprotective- but Byleth has seen all sorts of would be assassins- even children. He would not be surprised if any of the so called royal guard had a secret grudge against Dimitri, or any of the nobles.

Rodrigue nods at him as before he steps into a carriage of his own. He is in a separate carriage from his son, just in case of an attack. Felix does not seem to mind this at all.

The Blue Lions have raised the curtains draping their windows to lean out in a most dangerous fashion and wave at Byleth. He can see them already reaching into their bags and divide up dried fruits and small pieces of bread despite the fact that they had not even left yet. All of them raise their heads to glance at Byleth every so often, as if he would disappear before they could wave him goodbye.

When the procession of horses and carriages is ready, a guard at the front calls a command and his horse begins to walk, the rest of the horse drawn carriages following slightly behind. The Blue Lions immediately plaster themselves to the windows closest to Byleth and wave.

"Goodbye," Byleth says. "Stay safe. Godspeed." He raises a hand, face blank. The Blue Lions begin to shout.

"Bye, professor! Don't miss us too much!" 

"Professor, let's have tea when we return!"

"Look after the other Lions for us!"

"Professor!" Dimitri calls, also veering dangerously out of his window. Byleth blinks at him and at the utter panic of everyone else. "When I return, I'll have become a better man!"

He tilts his head, and slightly raises his voice so he can be heard over the din of stomping hooves. "You are enough as you are," Byleth calls, hands cupped around his mouth. 

Dimitri yells something that he cannot catch, before he has been obviously pulled into his seat by the other passengers of the carriage and is too far to hear. Byleth watches the royal blue carriages until they disappear onto the dirt roads, and then walks away, immediately pressing himself into his father's side.

"They'll probably be fine," Jeralt tells him. "We have our own problems to worry about."

Byleth memorizes the sight of them leaving behind his closed eyelids before nodding. "I know. I am prepared."

.

Rhea has become increasingly irritated, but she is quite good at hiding it from others. Only when it is Byleth, or his father, or members of her family does her smile drop from her face.

He asks her about the guards, and she merely tells him that it is a precaution. The look in Rhea's eyes does not make Byleth want to tempt fate or whatever she has planned. Besides, it was not as if they bothered him too much. They were quite enthusiastic about their jobs, but they did not show themselves often, only at night.

"The chalice," Rhea explains, over one of Byleth's most soothing chamomile teas because he does not wish to die at teatime, "was a tool used to wake mother long ago. However, I was a fool. At the time, I did not realize that she was not simply 'gone'- but asleep, and there would need to be a different ritual to awaken her fully and have her truly inhabit the perfect body."

Byleth, the owner of said perfect body, can only shift awkwardly at his words.

He wouldn't actually mind giving up his body to Sothis. But there were things that he needed to do first, and if his father knew that he was even considering the idea just so Sothis could wake faster he would be upset, so he keeps it all to himself. Usually, Byleth had at the very least Sothis to confide in, but not right now.

"Which is why you think that it will work since I am here," Byleth says, as Rhea hums in agreement. They are both pointedly ignoring Indech and Macuil spying on them- not from the bushes, but from behind one of the gazebo pillars. Perhaps they were worse at subtlety than his Lions.

Honestly, Byleth thinks that the chalice suddenly working because he was there is not entirely true. He does not even think it will work. 

Despite all of his uncertainties, a chalice that could potentially raise the dead? He had no intention of letting anyone die, and he was not sure it would even work, but it was definitely an item that he would rather possess as opposed to anyone else.

The reason why he stayed behind and steeled himself to watch many of his Lions leave- Byleth had already become determined to do it as he sealed Dimitri's letter.

Now is the time.

He only needs to wait a few more days, just to make sure that they would not hurry back into the middle of their journey.

The days are surprisingly shorter than he had thought they would be, with most of them gone. Even though many of the Blue Lions have departed with Dimitri, some yet remain, and it is quite comfortable to teach a smaller class, especially since they feel the need to fill the sudden absence of people with more participation. 

Even their unannounced, occasional guests do not stop time from passing.

Byleth thinks that he must have walked into the wrong classroom, for the Golden Deer sit there, mingling with the rest of his Blue Lions, presumably to chat before classes.

Not eager to interrupt their friendly chatter, Byleth glances outside of the doors and notes that yes, this is indeed his classroom, and evidence of this is draped nearby in the form of the tapestry dedicated to the Blue Lions, and no, Byleth was not just seeing things.

"Hey, teach!" Claude calls. He has made himself comfy in the front of row of the classroom, brushing elbows with a very annoyed looking Lysithea. "We thought you'd be lonely, so we're here now."

His Blue Lions glance back at him wordlessly, yet still somehow saying with their eyes 'would you like us to kick them out?' 

Byleth does not mind, but why did Claude have to choose the front row? Why couldn't he sit with Hilda, who was pretending that she was not napping in the back of the room?

As predicted, Claude's intense gaze rests on him for the entirety of the class. He raises his hand constantly to debate him, although at a certain point Byleth wonders if he simply likes hearing the sound of his own voice.

Claude immediately throws an arm around his shoulders after class, and thus immediately earns several glares, especially from Lysithea. "Teach, won't you become our professor? Come on, it'll be fun!"

"No."

Dramatically Claude holds a hand to his chest as if he's been attacked. "But you won't mind if we join your classes, right? Hanneman has definitely spent more time than ever researching your little goddess- it's kind of worrying."

"I don't mind," Byleth replies, and Claude pumps a fist in the air.

"You're so kind," Claude says, leaning all of his weight on Byleth. "I'm surprised that you didn't go with the little king- I wanted to go and see what the Faerghus coronation was like, in person! I even wrote my parents and everything- they said no, and something about how I still had exams and blah blah blah."

"You wrote your parents?" Byleth asks, realizing Claude is walking them out of the classroom and towards the dining hall.

"Is that what you want to ask?" Claude says, with a pout.

.

It has nearly been a week since the Blue Lions have departed. Byleth wakes quietly in the middle of the night, straps Airgetlam to himself, and leaves his room when he knows that the guards are asleep. How curious the guards are. For guards that work during the night, they seem to be terrible at staying awake. There is not even a single one awake to keep watch.

Byleth runs a hand over the Sword of the Creator before deciding to take it- he was not planning on using it. It was far too recognizable, especially as a weapon, and how it left wounds, but Byleth figures that he should bring it just in case.

When Dimitri is far from the academy, he will accomplish his goals and disappear, if he must.

Byleth is weak. There is a part of him that would always want to help people. Whether it was finding items strewn across the school grounds and returning them or listening to troubles over tea, never speaking, Byleth enjoyed being helpful.

If he cut down more enemies than the other mercenaries, it was because he wished to be helpful, to be more than a blank existence. If he remained a professor, it was because he realized he could help educate others.

But there would always be a part of him that simply existed to cut people down.

The Ashen Demon.

Honestly, Byleth did not mind taking up that mantle. Not anymore.

Which is why he finds himself in front of Edelgard's room, so late at night that it is nearly early morning. He runs a hand over the dagger attached to his belt- normally it was a sturdy one with a strong hilt that was sharp enough to cut through flesh and bone in the right hands- but now it held Airgetlam, and the weight of it was more foreboding than any weapon that he has ever wielded.

He does not immediately creep into Edelgard's room. First, he makes the rounds of the hallway, carefully closing his eyes and focusing on the faint noises in the hall. Soft snoring. The rustle of blankets. Even the faintest of breathing. Byleth is a mercenary, of course, and is no stranger to stealth kills. Sometimes, rather than being spotted and evaded by the target, it was far worse to be seen by others, because sometimes he would be ordered to silence anyone that has seen them.

Granted, after realizing what Byleth had been secretly been ordered to do, Jeralt had forbidden that kind of working policy- but it was ingrained in him.

He makes another lap. If anyone was awake, and was simply excellent at controlling their breathing, he could pretend that he was making the rounds.

Byleth finally stops again at Edelgard's room, hand gripping firmly around the hilt of Airgetlam. He was far too tense, but he had pulses, and this time he was going to make sure that she was truly dead at his hands before she could even think of throwing back her cursed dagger-

"Oh, hello, handsome," someone greets.

Byleth whirls around to see a somewhat familiar figure there. He wracks his brain for the memory of his name- and remembers that it is Yuri.

"It is late," Byleth greets. Should he use a pulse, kill Edelgard, and then flee? But apparently he was far too tense to realize that the man was even there in the first place- when did he come, and when did he appear?

Yuri glances down at his dagger and his lips curve. "A special midnight rendezvous?" Yuri asks, raising a finger to his lips.

"Hm," Byleth hums, wondering if he should strike. Then, he forces himself to relax. He has not even done anything, and even if Yuri tells anyone, he could simply use a pulse. Byleth should not kill indiscriminately.

Yuri's face is unreadable. "Hey, you're kind of associated with the church, right? Right. Want to help me with something? I promise to repay the favor." Yuri offers, and then raises a perfect brow, while pointedly looking at Edelgard's door.

Byleth blinks at the sudden offer, and then blinks again when Edelgard leaves her room, a dagger in her hand. "Professor?" Edelgard asks, groggy, and then points her dagger at Yuri when she realizes that he was there.

This was really a great situation. Byleth considers using a pulse, and when Claude bursts out of his room farther down the halls with a knife in one hand he realizes that his life is slowly spiraling out of control.

.

The carriages stop to allow the horses to rest briefly, and the feeling of stepping out of a stuffy carriage and into the fresh air is completely ruined by a man that approaches Dimitri as he is helped out of the carriage by Dedue.

"It is not advisable for, ahem, someone from Duscur to be sharing your carriage, your Majesty." 

It has been nearly a week since their group has left the academy, and ever since Dimitri has been memorizing the faces and the names of the guards, mercenaries and footmen that have been accompanying them. Some of them he recognizes, knowing their faces from his father's men, and are polite and kind to him. Perhaps too polite, as if he were made of glass and brittle eggshell. He cannot blame them. The mercenaries are quite comfortable in his presence already due to the professor, and some of them slap him on the back and tease him about the professor but they seem oddly protective of him, although they have barely interacted in the past. Perhaps that is where the professor gets his own quiet protectiveness as well, sure and strong.

Some of the people that accompany them gaze at Dimitri as if he were a particularly interesting insect to be pinned to a wall and arranged in whatever manner suits them.

Dimitri slowly turns his head to look at the man, while Dedue merely purses his lips and sends a warning glance his way. "What is your name?" Dimitri asks.

There is something about the man's expression that expects some sort of compensation for being horribly uneducated and racist, and Dimitri cannot stand it. "This humble servant's name is Le-"

"And what is my name?" Dimitri cuts in, the flames of rage lapping at his chest like soft ocean waves that would precede a storm. He refuses to let him finish his introduction.

He can hear the captain's words and advice in the back of his mind, soft. _Breathing excercises, kid. It will ground you._

"Your name is Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd," the man says, churlishly pleased. He pants like a dog expecting a treat for biting someone's fingers.

Dimitri knows this is not wise, but neither is this man before him. "So you know at least that much, and yet you wish to comment on my companions?"

At last, the danger has finally sunk in, and the man ducks away, head bowed and legs shaking. "This servant does not dare," he claims, sounding afraid.

"This is my fault," Rodrigue tells him, placing a hand on Dimitri's shoulder. Dimitri does not feel comforted in the slightest, even if he appreciates the effort. "I may have been far too attentive with the guards, and yet not with the servants."

Dimitri watches the cowering, shriveling man, and does not feel satisfied in the slightest. "Remove yourself from my sight," Dimitri says, and the man trips on a rock in his haste to flee.

Sylvain, off to the side, turns up his nose at the man. "Rude..." he hisses, hiding his scowl. Dimitri takes heart in knowing that the Blue Lions echo his thoughts.

"That man..." Rodrigue shakes his head. "I'll take care of it when we return. Please drink some water from the stream before we return to the road, Your Majesty."

Rodrigue inclines his head before stepping away, and Dimitri sighs quietly. 

"Are you alright, your Highness?" Dedue asks, attentive as ever. He then clears his throat. "Forgive me. Your Majesty?"

Dimitri fights not to grind his teeth. "I should be asking you that."

"It is nothing that I am not accustomed to," Dedue tells him, as if that was not a fact that Dimitri hated with every inch of his body and soul. It hurt knowing that one of his dearest companions had become used to this sort of treatment, as if it were expected by now.

"And I truly despise how most only listen to me because of my blood," Dimitri continues, unable to stop the gnashing of his teeth. "Is basic human respect and compassion supposed to be ordered and commanded? Because of where you were born, does that mean that people are allowed to be horrible to you? I cannot stand-"

A hand settles on Dimitri's shoulder, and Dedue looks meaningfully towards the carriage door. Dimitri takes several valuable seconds to relax his shoulders, to release the tension in his neck, to place on an amiable face. 

They walk over to the stream and Dimitri cups a hand into the water to drink from. He carefully goes not look at his reflection. He does not know what he will see.

Dedue helps him back into the carriage when it is time. A mercenary is already inside, nodding at Dimitri and Dedue when he enters as she examines her nails. 

By the time Felix is pushed into the carriage unwillingly by his father, Dimitri has become 'himself' once more. The near-furious look Felix shoots him at the sight remains unseen, and Dimitri feigns interest in staring out of the carriage window.

Despite the cold of winter becoming more prominent the closer they rode to the capital, Dimitri's eyes occasionally catch patches of green not yet smothered by snow, desperate to live. The sight of that comforting colour makes Dimitri sigh.

As soon as Dimitri is king, he swears that he will do something about this. He finds the professor's envelope tucked into the carriage seat, tracing the professor's neat, quick cursive with his eyes.

_Dear Dimitri._

The king tucks it away again so that he is not tempted to open it. Was it embarrassing that Dimitri was looking forward to his coronation being over, partly due to a letter?

Dimitri sighs and turns his head, gazing back out into the scenery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was so pissed that we couldn't fucking brawl any of the bitches that were being horribly racist to dedue gosh please i wanted to fucking fight them. so dimi is going to punch racists on our behalf fbdvdvdhd
> 
> i was really nervous writing dimi perspective because it isn't byleth and isn't sothis but i think i did okay! he'll have a much bigger part in the next chapter
> 
> next time on godspeed: dimi is actually going to fight everyone, byleth is constantly stopped from fighting someone, new characters appear. look forward to it!
> 
> okay so one of the server mods in the server i mention sometimes has asked me to drop a link to the server- so here it is! i know some of u have been wanting to join and i havent been able to give u all the link for personal reasons but here it is! we talk about fire emblem and cry over sports anime- btw i legitimately teared up reading the raws for the last haikyuu chapter- ANYWAY HERE'S THE LINK IT ONLY LASTS 24 HOURS AND THEN U GOTTA MESSAGE ME ON TUMBLR OR TWITTER OKAY
> 
> https://discord.gg/Hw5wZ7
> 
> thank you so very much for reading ♡
> 
> byleth/dimitri B rank  
byleth/dedue B rank  
byleth/felix B rank  
byleth/annette B rank  
byleth/ingrid B rank  
byleth/sylvain B rank  
byleth/mercedes B rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt B rank  
byleth/ferdinand B rank  
byleth/lysithea B rank  
byleth/cyril C+ rank  
byleth/flayn B rank  
byleth/caspar B rank  
byleth/dorothea C+ rank  
byleth/marianne C rank
> 
> byleth/jeritza C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/sothis A rank  
byleth/claude C+ rank  
byleth/yuri ??? rank  
byleth/edelgard C rank  
byleth/rhea C+ rank


	45. tiger lily

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so ive been kinda secretly obsessed with a line dimi says in other routes- like what the fuck does he mean that the blaiddyd line will go on??? rufus, likely, but i totally just killed him off in the name of plot. anyway ive made up my own answer for this kinda line in my fic- it's not really a spoiler for the chapter if i tell u in the first couple paragraphs hdhdhd- it's up to u whether or not you think this character will be important. ACTUALLY IT'S UP TO ME, but, ya know. semantics
> 
> happy birthday three houses! it's still the 26th some places. im grateful to this game cause ive met some amazing people thanks to it. im grateful to yall as well for continuing to read godspeed! onto the chapter!

Rufus Blaiddyd's funeral is a solemn affair that Dimitri can hardly remember over the calm rush of pure fury coursing through his body. 

It cannot simply be a coincidence. Demonic beasts attacking his uncle, and attacking the ball all in the same night? Once Dimitri figured out who was behind these murderous schemes, he would... He would...

Breathing exercises. Dimitri shakes his head. It would not do for him to lose his temper in front of all of these people.

The capital wears all black. Not a speck of blue is to be seen except in the flowers placed over his casket. They tell Dimitri that they could not recover his body, and that the casket was merely a formality. He grits his teeth at the news.

Atop the casket was etched the Crest of Blaiddyd, silver upon silver. Dimitri thinks if his uncle were to see it placed there instead of upon his person, like he had always famously desired, he would spit upon it and attempt to crush it below his heel.

Dimitri is not exactly upset that that man had no true claim to the throne, due to his nature, but perhaps his nature was all because of how he was treated- despite being the first born child, he did not possess a Crest, and was therefore lesser than his younger brother. He can't understand why such a thing was in place- shouldn't a ruler be chosen for entirely different reasons other than the circumstances of their birth?

How laughable. Even Dimitri was ascending the throne because of the circumstances of his birth. He shouldn't complain, but it just wasn't right.

If his uncle was aware of his thoughts, the man would probably sneer in his face and take it as some sort of pity.

There was the speech Rodrigue had given, and then the speech Rufus' new wife had given, a young woman named Beatrice. She is heavily pregnant, and when she stands to speak, two maids hurry to support her. Dimitri has never met her in person. After his uncle had taken a second concubine, he had not introduced the subsequent ones to the palace, did not acknowledge them outside of openly divorcing them and casting them aside. Dimitri has barely returned to the capital, and yet he knows the only reason Beatrice is still- was still his wife is because she is pregnant, and before Rufus was made duke of Itha, her family laid claim to a large part of its land before the Blaiddyd line claimed it. Still, Beatrice's family occasionally looks after it in the royal line's stead, if impossible for them at the moment, even if they had no real claim to the land for generations.

He wonders if in a different life she would have been killed without Dimitri even knowing her face.

It is a harsh truth, and yet his uncle was harsher still- his uncle was a notorious womanizer, but unlike Sylvain's flitting flirtations, his uncle took great pleasure in bedding whoever he pleased and then ruining their lives.

Perhaps that was partly why Fhirdiad was so pleased with Dimitri's return, and soon, his ascension to the throne.

Dimitri would not be surprised if he had a few cousins that he did not know of- or were disposed of, but although Beatrice's family was no longer technically nobility, they did take care of some of the affairs of the kingdom, which was likely why Rufus had married her properly. He wonders if his uncle had expected his unborn child to have a Crest, making them a potential competitor to the throne.

The king immediately pinches himself so hard he bleeds. What horrible thoughts he was indulging, thoughts that were treasonous and yet thoughts still. Dimitri did not particularly care for his uncle and his lecherous ways, but he was his uncle all the same, no matter how many sneers and humiliations he was subjected to while growing up.

At first glance, Beatrice did seem like a kind woman, so Dimitri had no idea what she saw in his uncle for her to weep about. 

He pinches himself again. Dimitri was terrible for thinking this way, especially about his uncle. He was still family.

Which is why he remains seated by the head of his uncle's casket, even when more people approach him for their condolences. Dimitri wonders why so many people think that they are able to flatter him, especially at a funeral. Their gazes are particularly greedy, their mentions of their young daughters are disrespectful to both himself and their daughters, and their unsubtle hints at their contributions to the Kingdom are unsavory.

He wonders how Beatrice is handling all of this attention. Despite how solemn and frail she seemed, ebony black hair thin and oily, hands shaking, she must be usually more strong hearted than this. If Beatrice remained Rufus' wife despite his multiple concubines- and more likely, multiple attacks on her person when people realized she was pregnant, there must be something more to her.

Honestly, Dimitri was grateful to her existence. If she potentially gave birth to a child which possessed the Crest of Blaiddyd, Dimitri would not be pressured to immediately wed the moment he took the throne.

His thoughts stray to the professor at the thought of marriage, smiling that soft, hidden smile of his, dressed in white. Dimitri shakes his head to rid himself of those thoughts.

Dimitri nearly undoes himself with a sigh of relief when the Blue Lions approach him. "I miss the professor," Dimitri blurts, as he is close enough. His ears burn at the sudden confession, but the Blue Lions simply nod along.

"Why are some people proposing marriage to me at a funeral?" Ingrid demands, lowering her voice when she realizes that several eyes have strayed to her. "...I did not mean my outburst. Your Highness- Majesty-"

"Dimitri," he corrects.

"D-Dimitri," Ingrid repeats, steeling herself. "I am truly sorry about your loss."

The future king inclines his head, not knowing what to say. 

"Have any of you met his wife before?" Annette asks suddenly, blue eyes flashing behind her dark veil. "I have never ever met her in my life."

Sylvain snorts. "Not that Dimitri's uncle would ever allow any of the women he beds to reveal much about their relationship and themselves."

"Sylvain!"

"Sylvain, I really don't want to hear this from you."

"Why do you have to say it like that...?"

"Your Majesty," a voice interrupts. 

The Blue Lions part to reveal Cornelia dabbing at her face with a black handkerchief. Unexpectedly, the mercenaries that litter the area around Dimitri all place hands on their weapons. Dimitri frowns and makes a mental note of that.

"Truly, you have my most sincere condolences," Cornelia says, her eyes shiny. Her cheeks are blotchy pink, and her usual elegant composure is nowhere to be seen. But Dimitri is far too familiar with his own mask to brush hers aside.

Sylvain turns around to hide his eyeroll. "Did they fuck or something- ow, Mercedes! I'm sorry..."

At the very least, she does not seem to have heard. Dimitri meets Cornelia's eyes and nods. Her responding smile is thin.

"I have a feeling that you will do an excellent job as king," she continues, thoughtfully. "Like your uncle."

Ah. Dimitri is long accustomed to the petty, not-so hidden insults of the court. "Surely he would not have been the ruler that he was without your... generous assistance."

By the sudden flash of her teeth he is sure she's understood him. "You flatter me," Cornelia says, and then dips into a curtsey before she strides away- and stops.

"That professor of yours didn't come?" Cornelia asks, tilting her head in curiosity. "I was hoping that he might- he's become quite popular, after all."

Dimitri fights not to bristle, but judging by her sudden smile, he's failed spectacularly. Her body language abruptly changes, and now Dimitri can feel sweat clinging to his spine. Something about her is so offputting to him.

"Why are you asking?" Dimitri demands, and wants to bite off his tongue when he realizes how harsh his tone has become.

"Why, the people of Faerghus are mainly a devout group," Cornelia says, eyelashes fluttering. "Everyone is curious about whom the goddess has descended the heavens for- and everyone whispers about how he is the second coming of saint Seiros, allegedly, because of how she only ever seems to speak with him. It would be a smart move to bring him here and, with his favor, ascend the throne, would it not?"

"Even without his favor I shall ascend the throne," Dimitri says. "Am I amiss to assume you would rather have him here than I?"

"Oh, forgive me if I have offended you... Your Majesty. I am just simply curious about the nature of his person." 

Dimitri cannot help but think that the professor was too good for this lady to even glance at in passing. Something possessive wells up in him- and he kills it without a second thought. The professor was not a possession to be coveted and locked away.

"Heaven alone knows the nature of his thoughts, and why the goddess has suddenly appeared once more," Dimitri offers, although the words taste like sand in his mouth. They drip from his tongue as though the words possessed true weight. "Not I. Nor you."

Cornelia's lips purse, unsatisfied with his lukewarm reaction. "I shall take my leave, then. Forgive my offenses, your Majesty."

With that, she turns on one heel and finally, finally leaves properly this time. Dimitri sees the mercenaries take their hands off of their weapons when she's disappeared into the throng of people, gathered to mourn. Dimitri highly doubts that she was off to pray for his uncle's soul.

The Blue Lions watch her go. Caspar wrinkles his nose. "Wow."

"Wow is right," Ashe says, eyebrows furrowed. "Ah, sorry, Your Highness, Your Majesty, I mean, n-no, Dimitri-"

"Calm yourself, Ashe. It is alright to call me by name, as before," Dimitri tells him. Ashe's eyes shift like he does not know whether or not he should defer to him or not.

"Alright, D-Dimitri..." Ashe says, scratching at one cheek.

There is a sort of distance between them all that was not present at the academy, one that Dimitri hates. It seems as if the change in place and atmosphere has suddenly made them all aware of a rift between them, a rift made wider by the realization that Dimitri was to be crowned in only a matter of days.

At the officer's academy, no one seemed to treat him like a future king- at least, after a period of time and after speaking to him and realizing that no, he did not want to bite their heads off or something as equally ridiculous. Dimitri misses that facade, and although he knows that he will return to the academy shortly, it will only be when he is crowned, and by then, many of the students will have decided to distance themselves from him, whether that was a conscious decision or not.

Dimitri misses the professor fiercely. He never seemed to care about Dimitri's background, or of his past. He didn't seem thrown whenever Dimitri accidentally let his mask slip. For that alone, Dimitri would declare his loyalty a thousand times over.

"Did you guys read your letters yet?" Caspar asks, puffing out his cheeks. "I wanted to open mine for a little peek, even through the professor wrote on it that I shouldn't open it until after the coronation."

"And you opened it," Annette says. "Didn't you."

"I opened it," Caspar agrees, still looking distinctly like an angry rabbit, "and the first line read 'if you have finished your work before the coronation you can read this letter, but otherwise, please place this back into the envelope.' Boy, that professor... Does he have mind reading powers?"

"I am curious about the letters, though..." Mercedes says, fingers running idly through her unbound hair. "I wonder why we all got them, and why we were instructed to open them after the coronation? Whatever the professor wanted to tell us, he could have told us in person, right?"

"And we are not going to be absent for that long," Ferdinand adds. He counts off of his fingers. "First, the funeral, and then, the coronation, and then finally the banquet before we have to go back to classes. Final exams are coming up after all!"

"I opened my letter," Felix says. Dimitri watches as he absentmindedly reaches up over where his heart beat in his chest. "For some reason, after one line, I felt as if I shouldn't read any more of it."

"Woah, Felix actually listening to orders?" Sylvain teases.

Felix shoots him a scowl so fierce it would likely kill a more cowardly person. "Shut up. It was odd, okay? Something about the first line was weird enough."

"Oh? What did it say, Felix?" Ingrid asks.

"Why would I tell you that?" Felix scoffs, turning his head away. "...But it wasn't what I was expecting. It wasn't some platitudes about how we had to behave or something."

"Huh?"

Felix's scowl becomes worse as his eyes flicker briefly over to where his father stood, mingling quietly with a few of the guests. "Do you think that goddess or something gave Byleth weird powers? Like whatever a seer would have... Never mind. It's nothing."

The Blue Lions all exchange wary glances. "It's nothing," Felix repeats, expression fierce. "I can just ask him what the hell is going on when we return."

The uncrowned king's hands twitch for his own letter, kept on his person at all times. What could have caused Felix to act like this? He would ask him later, after he opened his own letter.

What could the professor have written? How could one line agitate Felix so much?

Dimitri closes his eyes and misses his professor so fiercely he feels as if he may steal a horse from the stables and ride it all the way back to the academy without stopping for a break.

Thoughts of the professor could wait. He should prepare himself for the coronation. Maybe he should formally introduce himself to Beatrice when he had the chance. If she bore ill towards him, it was better to figure her out before he became king.

Perhaps Dimitri should also ask why the professor's mercenaries seemed so puzzled by her appearance. After all, they were probably more trustworthy than the rest of the snakes slithering around in his court. If the professor trusted them, then how could Dimitri not do the same?

.

Byleth wonders if emerging from rooms with knives was normal for some people. The moment that Edelgard and Claude spotted each other out of the corner of their eyes, they then turned the blade on each other, before blinking the sleepiness from their eyes and very reluctantly lowering their weapons, and then raising them again suddenly.

What, indeed, was their thought process at the moment?

To be honest, he wants to stab Edelgard right now and run, but he realizes that would be counterproductive and also a very bad idea. However, many of his ideas so far have been very bad ideas, such as not killing Edelgard the moment he saw her again in front of his house.

"Professor?" Claude asks, sleepily. He does not move his knife. "What's going on? Are you being threatened by little miss princess over there?"

Byleth wonders if Claude is aware that he is still pointing a knife in his general direction.

Edelgard sniffs, indignant. "You should not be asking me that. You should be asking this unknown man, who is in the student dorms at such a late hour."

Yuri examines his nails with such little interest in the situation Byleth can practically hear Edelgard's teeth grind. Byleth clears his throat. "This is Yuri," Byleth introduces, and Yuri waves a hand in greeting. "I don't actually know much about him, but he worked with my father for a short period of time."

"Now that that's settled," Yuri says, an air of nonchalance about him, "can you two stop pointing those at Byleth? He looks quite uncomfortable."

Byleth is not at all used to hearing his name from someone that looks about the same age as his students. Perhaps this Yuri person was closer in age to him than most of the Blue Lions, but still, it was odd.

He wonders if Yuri was a student here, once.

"Actually, you'll find that we're pointing them at you-"

"Your rudeness is quite appalling-"

Yuri rolls his eyes, then turns an expectant expression on Byleth. "I have a favor to ask of you. Meet me by the sauna tomorrow night." 

Byleth stares at him. What in the world was going on? "...Why?"

"Why not?"

Byleth is very curious about what transpires in this man's head. "...Yuri, I hardly know you...?"

Yuri places a long finger to his cheek, tilting his head as it lays there. "Yes, but isn't the point of rendezvous getting to know each other? Besides... If you help me with something, I think I'll be able to help you."

"With what?"

"Oh, you know," Yuri says, melodic. "Keeping my mouth shut about what I think I just saw. Context clues really are something, aren't they?"

Byleth understands immediately, and wants to sigh. Edelgard and Claude are watching Byleth for a reaction, or perhaps confirmation about what they're doing, or even an order, but Byleth simply reaches for a Divine Pulse.

.

It takes about three more Divine Pulses for Byleth to realize that Yuri had been following him to Edelgard's room from the moment he had left his room.

He's disappointed in himself. If he was thinking clearly, Byleth would not have wasted so many Pulses on such a trivial matter.

Somehow, Yuri had evaded Byleth's caredul eye, and his makeshift guards- well, actually, Byleth was not too surprised about him dodging the guards. They fell asleep on duty constantly, and if Byleth genuinely cared about their apparent role in his safety he would be upset, but he does not care much at all.

Byleth contemplates killing the man and then Edelgard, but that would be too messy. Besides. He was not Edelgard. Killing was a tool, not his trade. 

Perhaps not anymore. 

It seems as though this Yuri character did want Byleth for something, but he was not sure what. Should he simply confront him now, or should he recreate the first time Yuri had confronted him in the halls?

If Yuri thought that he had the advantage over Byleth by hanging whatever he thought he saw by the dorms over his head, then Byleth would let him have it.

Byleth thinks his job would be much easier if Edelgard was aware he was trying to kill her. Knowing her, she would try to do something first in retaliation- and as long as it wasn't escaping to the Empire to declare herself emperor, Byleth thinks that he would have the upper hand.

Honestly, Byleth would hate it if she did not at least put up a fight-

What in the world was up with his thoughts? Besides, Byleth really was curious as to what Yuri wanted with him- his father seemed to not hate his presence, which was already a point in Byleth's book.

"I'll take that expression on your face as a yes," Yuri says, with a charming grin that Byleth suddenly wants to punch for no reason. Shaking his head to free himself of his stupor, Byleth banishes the thought. Byleth brought this onto himself, after all. And he did not want to waste any more Pulses playing a cat and mouse game with a man that he did not understand.

Byleth closes his eyes and nods.

"So we're in agreement," Yuri nods at him, lips curving at the ends. "See you tomorrow night, handsome."

And with that incredibly confusing turn of events, Yuri struts away as if he did not request something entirely out of the blue.

"Hold on just a moment," Edelgard calls. Yuri ignores her, and turns down the steps. Immediately Edelgard follows, stride full of purpose, and makes a face as she stares down the steps. It is clear that Yuri is no longer there, judging by her expression.

Byleth has no idea what has just happened. He's probably less confused than Claude and Edelgard though, which is, at the very least, still something.

Claude approaches from behind him, twirling his knife along his fingers as if immune to the blade and its cuts, and uses his other arm to wrap around Byleth's waist, leaning all of his weight onto him. Byleth supposes that he is sleepy. "He's got some dirt on you, huh. What were you doing in front of the little princess' room anyway?"

"I heard a noise," Byleth says, which is the best thing he can come up with, for his brain is still muddled by the lack of Divine Pulses. He'll have to be very careful from now on.

"Oh?" Claude says, with the same tone as someone would say 'bullshit.'

Byleth ignores it in favor of nodding. "On patrol. And then I heard a noise from Edelgard's room. I was going to go in, but I wasn't sure it was proper."

Claude snorts. "If you happen to hear a potential murderous 'noise' from my room, please do come in and try to prevent me from getting killed, thanks."

Edelgard stares at him for a long moment, still by the staircase. Byleth stares back, refusing to back down. 

Claude, of course, watches this as though it were a particularly riveting spar.

She sighs and lowers the knife. "I talk in my sleep," Edelgard says, accidentally aiding Byleth's lie. "You may have heard me grumble something odd." Byleth wants to sigh in relief.

Claude finally relents, sighing. "I'm guessing he saw you hover in front of her door, and assumed you were planning something scandalous- which is what that Yuri person has on you. Teach, everyone knows you don't know the meaning of the word sex. Even if he tells someone, no one is going to believe him. Which is why you definitely should not go to whatever he's got planned."

Byleth is very curious about what the students of the academy think of him. Some sort of pure angel who didn't know many ways to kill a man? "I know what sex is, Claude," Byleth says, and has an odd sense of deja vu.

Claude gasps, freeing Byleth in favor of placing one hand over his chest. "Your innocence," Claude declares dramatically, with a tone that would certainly belong to someone sobbing and not someone desperately biting back a laugh.

Byleth blinks at him.

"So, I'm definitely not letting you meet that person alone," Claude says suddenly, closer now. "We're coming with you!"

"We?"

"I've made the executive decision as leader of the Golden Deer," Claude announces. "We're going to be your backup, just in case he tries to kill you or something."

"I am coming as well," Edelgard declares, hands on her hips. "I am most curious about the nature of that- that man."

"No," Byleth says.

"But you are going to meet him, right?" Claude says, and waits for Byleth to nod. "Perfect! I guess we've all got a date then."

Byleth does not think this would qualify as a date, but he's only ever been on some, and they were in the middle of war zones, which was not exactly the most romantic location. He recalls Dima frantically hiding some tiny flowers behind his back, plucked from a clearing near their camp, afternoons spent trying to focus on a book instead of Dima's warm, calloused hand in his, nights counting stars.

"I cannot stop either of you, can I?"

Claude smiles as he shakes his head. While Edelgard hides it better, she seems perfectly pleased with this outcome.

.

Byleth doesn't know how this situation ended up with the Blue Lions tailing him with their faces puffed up in indignation at whatever Claude had told them, but he is here now. Without any of his Divine Pulses, too, which is really quite fantastic for him.

In fact, Edelgard and Claude did make good on her claims to follow him to where Yuri had insisted they meet up, and they had brought Bernadetta and Hilda from their respective houses, but the outcome of their current situation was definitely the fault of Claude.

Claude, who had spotted a random suspicious man disappearing into a crack in the walls of the academy, which actually led to a set of stairs, which actually led to him dragging Byleth along, which had led to this.

Fighting an unknown amount of enemies in a crumbling passage led by a bunch of kids that were probably the same age as his students. It wasn't particularly a hard battle, even though Byleth did not have most of his class. The other classes seemed decent in combat as well, even though Bernadetta shrieked in fear whenever someone came near.

One of them seemed far older than a student. The other reminded Byleth far too much for Ferdinand, one of his students. And the other... The other one definitely caught Byleth's eye, in particular.

"That's dangerous!" Dorothea exclaims. She jumps back from the worm-like creature and leaps in front of Byleth. "Professor, watch out!"

"Summoning demonic beasts with a sigh..." Marianne begins, hands trembling as she raised them in front of her mouth. "That's..."

But Dorothea nearly stumbles in her attempt to save Byleth when she sees her professor's eyes shine. "Professor?"

"Can you summon dragons as well?" Byleth asks, temporarily distracted by the idea. He knows that his eyes are sparkling, but he cannot help himself. What wonderful companions they would make! He feels as if they would get along just fine.

The girl summoning the demonic beasts seems thrown off as well. She runs a hand through her horse's mane out of what seemed like nervousness. "I dunno. Maybe?"

"Would you like to join my class?" Byleth blurts.

"Professor!" The Blue Lions exclaim.

Byleth very badly wishes to pout, but restrains himself in favor of raising a hand and casting a simple fire spell. He did not, however, account for how out of control his spells seemed to be, and a massive inferno blazes out of his hands and sets the two massive demonic beasts on fire, and they writhe uselessly on the floor in an attempt to put it out, squealing and roaring desperately. The fire spreads to a few men, who are more successful in putting the flames out and use all of their energy to pull themselves to nearby healers.

The girl who had summoned those beasts gazes at him helplessly, and then back to her allies, who seemed to be the ringleaders of whatever was going on right now. "Um, guys. Can we give up now? I am not about to die like _that._"

"Hapi!" The blonde girl exclaims, audible even to Byleth, who stood far away from her still. He stares down at his hand and back at the Blue Lions with a perplexed expression. They too look rather surprised.

"I personally would love to see the outcome of this battle to gauge their strength," a playful voice cuts in. Byleth whirls around to see Yuri step out of what seemed like a wall, but upon further inspection, was simply a hidden door. He's more surprised by his guest, however.

"Yuri!" The three mysterious people exclaim.

"Father?" Byleth demands, at the same time.

The burly guy, who had retreated to where the blonde one was, begins to laugh. "Wow Yuri, holding out on us, huh?"

Yuri sneers at the man and steps aside so that Jeralt can also appear through the hidden door. "Don't be an idiot, Balthus. Byleth is older than me."

"You know his name?" The summoning girl asks, curious now. Hapi, he believes.

Yuri sighs as Jeralt walks over and looks over Byleth the way he would after missions, checking for injuries. "They're the 'important guests' I was bringing. And you just went and picked a fight with them!"

"How were we supposed to know that?" Balthus, apparently, demands. "Oh, sorry for not attacking the unknown intruders in Abyss." He says, sarcastically.

Yuri turns back to Byleth, clapping his hands together. "Sorry, professor. We're a rowdy bunch, as you can see, but we mean no harm!" Byleth thinks of the burly one, Bathus, and how he smiled while attempting to punch the life out of him with those dangerous looking gauntlets. Yuri glances down at the charred figures of the demonic beasts. "I knew I picked the right man for the job. Come on, come on! Why don't we talk over some of that tea you seem to be obsessed with."

"What the hell is going on." Claude says, more of a statement rather than a question.

"All can be answered over tea," Yuri says, cheerfully pushing at Byleth's shoulders to another wall.

The Blue Lions begin to protest, but quiet down when Jeralt raises a hand. "Just hear him out, won't you?"

Claude's eyes sparkle in a very dangerous way. "I would love to," he declares, eager for a mystery. At his side, Hilda is gazing incredulously at him, and then back to Byleth, as if he had all the answers.

She snaps her fingers suddenly, grabbing everyone's attention. "You're from house Albrecht, aren't you?! Balthus, Baltie, is that you? Whew, haha! You look, uh... you look pretty old."

"Do we know we know each other, pal?" Balthus asks, squinting over at her. "Wait a moment. That hair, those eyes, that voice... Hilda? I don't believe it! Holst's little sis?"

"Can we save this for later?" Edelgard cuts in. "I have some questions that I want this... This Yuri person to solve for me."

.

Byleth stares into his tea cup, mournfully thinking of his pilfered stash. Apparently Yuri had taken the tea from his room, if that wasn't making his odd stalking from nights ago creepy enough.

"You're not supposed to mix them all in one pot," he mutters quietly, frown becoming more evident as the scents mix together, unappealing in the air. Cyril pats his back as if nervous about the gesture.

"Holst is going to kick your ass," Hilda sneers, as she drops Byleth's sugar cubes into her portion of terrible tea. Byleth's sugar cubes. Stolen.

"Aw, please don't tell him," Balthus pleads, looking genuinely concerned. He seems to be sweating more about this than when he got defeated.

Hilda rolls her eyes. "Just this once, and just for you, I'll keep the fact that you tried to kill his precious little sister quiet."

"I said that I was sorry!"

"Anyway..." Yuri says, taking a sip of the tea as if it wasn't built on Byleth's nightmares "We're here to ask you something."

"Get straight to it," Jeralt says, suddenly. The students stare at him.

Yuri smiles sweetly, as if that would have any effect on his father. "Fine, fine. I did interrupt your day, didn't I? We're here to ask you to take care of the intruders that have been invading Abyss."

"Most of our mercenaries are not with us at the moment," Jeralt cuts in, "but Byleth and I can take care of them. Wanna hear our rates?"

The Blue Lions stare at Byleth's father. "We can help!" Dorothea says, and nudges Linhardt awake at the table to make him look more presentable.

"Ah, I can only deal in favors right now," Yuri says.

Jeralt stands from his chair, surprising everyone but Byleth. He reaches out to grab his father's sleeve, and they share a look before Jeralt sits back down.

"It _was_ a good idea to ask you to meet with us," Yuri says, appraisingly. "There are many within the church who would love to see this 'filthy' underground city purged. When you first showed up, I'm assuming this lot thought you were here to do just that. Apologies for the confusion."

Jeralt stands again, and Byleth yanks on his sleeve, but he does not sit back down. "Father..."

"You know he's using you, right?" Jeralt asks Byleth. "He said 'the church' and he knows what you are capable of."

"Capable of...?" Edelgard murmurs.

"Please don't get me wrong," Yuri says. "I didn't call Byleth here because of what he is. Rather, I asked him to meet me here because of what he can do."

Many students glance at each other with confused faces, but the Blue Lions simply purse their lips. "Is that so?" Flayn asks, puffing out her cheeks.

"While it would be nice for Byleth to simply just command them to stop, I doubt whoever's in charge of sending those mercenaries down here to listen," Yuri confirms, and Jeralt sits back down. 

The blonde, who had introduced herself as Constance von something that Byleth cannot remember, takes a sip of the pilfered tea before speaking. "Abyss, this place, is home to those who shun the light of day. It is the secret shadow of Garreg Mach, if you will."

"The church quietly tolerates us. They think they need a place like this for Garreg Mach to thrive," Hapi continues.

"The deal is simple," Yuri says, placing a stolen sugar cube into the stolen tea, "Abyssians never get involved with the surface, and the surface never gets involved with us."

Constance makes a very dramatic gesture that really does remind Byleth of Ferdinand. "Alas! Some foul surface dwellers have been plaguing us as of late. Further oppressing the souls who can only find solace beneath the ground? I cannot abide it! By the grace of our esteemed patron, we have been granted sanctuary here in Abyss."

"I see..." Hilda says, looking thoughtful. "Baltie, does that mean you've got a reason for being here too?"

Balthus makes a face before answering. "I've got loads of bounties on my head, Hilda. Loads."

Hilda sputters in disbelief. "Baltie, that's- that's awful!"

"Enough with the niceties," Yuri says, solemnly. "I want to enlist your help, Byleth, Captain, if you'll have us. If some members of the church realize that we're picking fights, even for good reason, they'll try to eliminate us even more. And we've got some people down here that can't even fight."

Balthus shakes his head. "We've got all manner of folk- the elderly, the infirm, orphans, lost souls, merchants who were chewed up and spit out by the nobility. You know, the works."

"It rests upon us to protect those who cannot protect themselves!" Constance declares. "...and, to safeguard our home. To that noble end, I must insist that you lend us your strength!"

Yuri folds his fingers together and leans in close enough across the table that Byleth can smell something sweet wafting off of him. "Trust is a choice. We're choosing to trust you, and I know I kinda blackmailed you here, Byleth, but I know lots of people. You help us, we help you. It's that simple. Even those students of yours- I know you all can carry your own. And I know you'll only help if your professor decides to. Please consider- we're kind of desperate. It's the only reason why I'm asking you."

Hapi sighs. "If Yuri-bird says we can trust them, I think we can trust them." Her eyes glance over to Byleth, and then away. He really does wonder if she can summon dragons.

Byleth glances over to his father, who shrugs when they meet eyes. Byleth sighs. "What do you guys think?"

"He's suspicious," Edelgard blurts.

"He's suspicious, I love it," Claude blurts, at the exact same time. They stare at each other.

"I think we should help them," Cyril says, looking at the wood grain of the table instead of Byleth's eyes. Byleth looks around to see that everyone has nodded their assent.

"We'll help," Byleth says, and Yuri breaks out into a lovely smile. 

"You won't regret this," Yuri says.

Edelgard sighs. "But I might."

Byleth turns to her, head tilted. "You do not have to help out if you do not desire to," he says, softly.

She seems surprised at him. Byleth should be more surprised that she hasn't attempted something on Dimitri's life before he left- or perhaps she already had, and didn't succeed. And there was no proof that she didn't send some people over to the Kingdom to spy.

"No," Edelgard begins. "It's alright. I am quite curious myself, about Abyss."

Hilda practically glues herself to Balthus' arm. "Give us the grand tour, Baltie!"

When he sighs and relents, the students filter out with them, Jeralt close behind. He glances back at his son, and Byleth nods at him before his father leaves.

Only Byleth and Yuri remain in the room now, Yuri daintily tracing the rim of his teacup.

"If you're going to tell her that I was going to kill her," Byleth says, monotone. "Allow me to be in the room so I can finish her off then and there."

Yuri smiles at him. "I wasn't actually going to tell her."

"I don't know that," Byleth says. Yuri sighs quietly.

"I know I said otherwise, like, five minutes ago, but can you really not command others to do your bidding?" Yuri asks, and Byleth feels a chill go down his spine. 

Byleth stands from the table and begins to stack the empty tea cups. "You've been watching me for awhile," Byleth says, soft.

Yuri stands as well, helping him stack the cups he cannot readily reach. "Yeah. I have. So I know you can actually do it."

Byleth shakes his head. "It's not a power I want to advertise."

"Don't you get it?" Yuri asks. "You can ask them to leave us alone. If anyone can protect Abyss, it's you. I'll kill whoever you want as long as you make the attacks stop. You have somehow bewitched the goddess apparently, after all. You may not know this, but you've become somewhat infamous. The second coming of Saint Seiros, to some."

Feeling a bit wary from Yuri's attentiveness, Byleth backs off slightly, which only leads to Yuri walking closer and closer to him.

"I was actually going to ask your help in looking for a chalice," Byleth asks. "If you didn't count the matter you saw last night as a favor you'll never speak of."

"Anything," Yuri says, getting closer still.

Byleth feels quite helpless. It's against his nature to back away and back off, but the look in Yuri's eyes says that it might be a better idea than whatever it was cooking up behind those eyes.

He finds himself pressed against a wall. Byleth purses his lips as Yuri tilts his head attractively, a stray strand of hair falling into his eyes. Perhaps for some, that would be a seductive move, but Byleth has never been comfortable being close to people he has never met.

"I'll do anything," Yuri repeats, in a tone of voice that has Byleth frowning.

"I'm engaged," Byleth tells him, ducking around the man so that he was not cornered against the wall. Yuri follows him slowly, hot on Byleth's heels. 

"She doesn't have to know," Yuri continues, suggestively. 

Byleth turns to look at him again, still blank faced. "He, actually."

"He doesn't have to know," Yuri corrects. "Forgive me for assuming."

With a sigh, Byleth takes a bigger step back. "You do not have to flirt with me to ask for my help," Byleth says. "I was planning on doing so anyway. I just said that I would help. I know that you do not actually want me. That is just fine. I do not want you at all."

Yuri makes a face Byleth cannot read, before he bursts out into laughter. "You'll hurt my feelings," Yuri says, but his eyes are sharper now. "Why agree so easily? I could tell her, you know. As much as you brush it off, I know it'll make it more difficult for you. Why?"

Byleth shrugs. "Father seems to like you. I do not hate helping people, and we are here already."

The man bursts out into bolder, brighter laughter at that. He wipes away a false tear, and the sudden flush of happiness to his face makes him seem all the more attractive- Byleth honestly cannot understand why such a person would attempt to flirt with him.

"So you'll really help, whether it's talking to them, or killing them," Yuri confirms. Byleth nods.

"No commanding, but yes. You do not have to force yourself to flirt with me," Byleth tells him. "I already told you that I have agreed."

Yuri grins at him. "I'm not forcing myself, Byleth. Rest assured, it's quite easy to flirt with someone that looks like you."

"I'm flattered," Byleth lies, completely monotone. Yuri bursts out laughing as Byleth escapes to the door.

"Oh, and Byleth?" Yuri calls. Byleth turns around, twitching to run away. "You're wrong about one thing. You're not so bad looking yourself- how could I not want you?"

Byleth sighs. He still does not understand the point of his flirting, and leaves before Yuri can drop any more witty one liners.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW SOME OF YALL HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS SHIT FOR LIKE YEARS- YURI FLIRTING LET'S GOOOOOOOO
> 
> i fuckiffycfkfyck how do u write constance. like ferdie right. idk why but i know im gonna struggle so much with her shshshs 
> 
> next time on godspeed: dimitri properly meets a new character and takes a tiny peek at something he's not supposed to! byleth is Not Okay. Not Okay.
> 
> thank you so very much for reading ♡
> 
> byleth/dimitri B rank  
byleth/dedue B rank  
byleth/felix B rank  
byleth/annette B rank  
byleth/ingrid B rank  
byleth/sylvain B rank  
byleth/mercedes B rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt B rank  
byleth/ferdinand B rank  
byleth/lysithea B rank  
byleth/cyril B rank  
byleth/flayn B rank  
byleth/caspar B rank  
byleth/dorothea C+ rank  
byleth/marianne C rank
> 
> byleth/jeritza C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/sothis A rank  
byleth/claude C+ rank  
byleth/yuri ??? rank  
byleth/edelgard C rank  
byleth/rhea C+ rank


	46. morning frost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome back everyone!
> 
> i was replaying ashen wolves to get a grasp on the characters of the dlc and my gosh yuri is so pretty. perhaps it's the purple but he's so pretty like gosh. i wish the wolves got more supports sigh 
> 
> so next week is technically godspeed's birthday! i was planning on uploading an alternate *something* to the story, BUT WE HAVENT REACHED A PLOT POINT YET THAT YALL NEED FOR THE ONESHOT IVE BEEN WORKING ON TO MAKE SENSE GOSH I WANT TO BE THERE ALREADY
> 
> anyway not the point can you believe ive stuck with this fic for almost a year? crazy. and what's crazier is that some of u have been there since the beginning too. i love all of u, no matter when you found this fic
> 
> LET'S SAVE THE SAPPY SHIT FOR NEXT WEEK ONTO THE CHAPTER

"Dimitri."

"Mmm...." Rolling over in bed, Dimitri sighs, curling up into his blankets. A hand traces the line of his jaw, and he arches up into the touch, desperate for the familiar contact.

"Dimitri," the voice coaxes again.

"No..." Dimitri complains, drowsy. "It is far too early to be awake, dearest." 

"I can't move," the voice says. Dimitri huffs and holds the person in his arms closer, pressing them against his bare chest and luxuriating in the warmth of their skin. The person breathes out, amusement audible in their voice. "Really, Dimitri. It's dawn. I must go."

"Stay a little longer," Dimitri hears himself grumble, one of his hands tracing the line of their body. He's grateful for their nightgown, because it's easy for them to tangle their legs together, skin on skin, as the hem rises. They shudder when Dimitri trails a hand up to their thigh and settles there, tracing little circles with his thumb.

"Having fun?" They ask, monotone.

"Yes," Dimitri grumbles, causing the other person to chuckle. They seem to take this as permission for their own hands to roam, and they settle for trailing the lines of his chest. A finger pokes his bellybutton and Dimitri laughs aloud, pulling them closer.

"I love you so much," Dimitri whines, caressing their thigh.

"You love this nightgown," they say.

Dimitri chuckles. "It's a bonus. You make everything look good."

"So affectionate early in the morning," they say, almost like a complaint, but their chest jumps with laughter.

"If I don't tell you how good you look and how much I love you, you'll forget it," Dimitri insists, and uses this time to pull the blankets back over them.

Immediately, they kick the sheets away. Dimitri huffs softly. "Just a little longer," Dimitri complains. "It's my honor to spend every morning with you."

They laugh. "I love you too."

And just like that, the person flips Dimitri easily, straddling his chest. Dimitri chuckles, warm with affection. He wouldn't mind staying like this forever, fed only by this moment. Everytime they tell Dimitri that they love him, he melts into a helpless puddle, weak to their confession. He would cross oceans and deserts just to hear them say those words, so having them say it like this, tangled up in each other in their bed, is the greatest blessing of his life. "You caught me," he says, smiling so wide it nearly splits his face. "What are you going to do about it?"

Their nightgown slips down one shoulder as they move and Dimitri feels his head spin at the sight. The sudden flash of skin has him biting down on his lip, and suddenly Dimitri feels as if he doesn't get his hands on them he may collapse.

That person takes Dimitri's hand off their thigh, and Dimitri can feel the pout form on his face until they guide the hand to slowly trail up their chest. His breath hitches as his fingers trail up their navel, their belly, and brush a nipple. Dimitri surges against them, eager to kiss them until they're both flushed and breathless, but they keep Dimitri pinned with a squeeze of their thighs. Dimitri's knees grow weak, even though he's still lying down, and he can feel himself grin at them.

"Let me kiss you," Dimitri complains, writhing on the sheets, eager to touch them. "Let me hold you, please. The day can wait. I cannot."

They lean down to peck him on the mouth. Too short. Dimitri groans as they pull away, and they laugh at him, which eases the tension in his chest. He flicks at their nipple, which causes them to laugh again.

"One more kiss, please," Dimitri asks, ready to deepen it. Eager to deepen it, really, if he would be honored with another kiss.

"You won't be satisfied with just one more," they correctly assume. Dimitri whines a bit in protest, not embarrassed. He'll beg and plead and pout at the chance to have more kisses.

Dimitri smiles up at them. "What gave me away?" He asks, hand still lazily resting on their chest.

"Do you feel that?" They ask.

"Your nipple?" Dimitri asks, half wondering how long he could keep them distracted from the day's events with kisses, and the person laughs.

"No, no," they say, and suddenly Dimitri's hand stabs through their chest with a sickening slick sound, guided by their hand. Something dark oozes through the puncture, and they take a deep breath, laughing all the while. Dimitri's breath catches for an entirely different reason, and he attempts to pull away, but his hand is stuck.

"Byleth," Dimitri gasps.

"Shh, shh," Byleth tells him, voice still deceptively even. It remains just so even as Byleth pulls the hand from his chest with a loud, wet sound that rattles Dimitri's mind. "Shh, Dimitri."

Byleth takes Dimitri's wrist and brings the dripping hand up to his mouth. Under closer inspection, the blood was darker than he thought, dark as night and thicker than blood- and somewhat reflective.

Dimitri gasps as Byleth brings the fingers to his mouth, but it is not Byleth that moves his hand. Instead, Dimitri is overwhelmed with the sensation of his tongue, and teeth, and lips and cannot help himself, fingers twitching. He is only halted by his distant horror, creeping up in his throat and dripping down his forearm.

Byleth pulls away, eyelashes wet. His lips kiss the pads of Dimitri's fingertips, and he looks demure, innocent, even, as if he did not control Dimitri's entire existence, his body, his being, with a simple touch.

"You did this to me," Byleth says, still carefully blank. He takes Dimitri's other hand and guides it to his face, so that he may caress it. "You stole the heart from my chest, Dima. You hurt me, Dima. You did this to me. You did this to me. You-"

"_Your Highness-_"

Dimitri sits up quickly, chest heaving and desperate for breath. His eyes seem to spin, and he feels around for a spear, a lance, a dagger, anything-

"Your Highness," Dedue says. "You are having a nightmare."

Despite the pointed words from maids, butlers, and even Rodrigue, Dimitri refused to sleep in the king's chambers, much less his own room. For some reason, after so long, he realized he didn't feel safe there, and insisted on sleeping in the guest halls with the rest of the Blue Lions.

Dimitri had insisted on sharing a room with Dedue, and no one dared refute him, especially after glancing at his feet, where he'd accidentally stomped cracks into the floors.

He is a little bit embarrassed about his mannerisms and how he had yelled, but he knows he would sleep better in a room near some of the people he trust most in the world rather than the emptiness of his proper chambers or the vastness of the king's chambers, lonely and dark.

"I..." Dimitri trails off, and he watches Dedue stand from his bed to pass a goblet of water to him. His hands shake as he takes the cup. "Thank you, Dedue."

Dedue waits until he drains the entire cup. "You have a guest," Dedue says. "I did not want to bother you, but she insisted."

Dimitri wipes the sweat from his neck and face, chest still quickly rising and falling. "Did she..." Dimitri begins, attempting to find the words, head still swimming with that dream. Flashes of white cloth upon skin, darkness upon flesh. "Did that person try anything with you?"

Dedue shakes his head. "She said that she will wait as long as she needs, as long as she gets an audience. It is lady Beatrice, your... your aunt."

His thoughts blank before he realizes that yes, technically, she was his aunt. Dimitri grabs a robe from the foot of his bed and shrugs it on, Dedue following close behind.

"Thank you for this, Dedue," Dimitri tells him. Dedue nods his head, wordlessly. Dimitri wonders if he'd slept. He hopes so.

When he opens the door, his aunt is leaning against the wall opposite his room in a distinctly tired fashion. A maid is whispering to her, and when they both realize that he was there, they curtsey so low they drop to the floor.

Dimitri hurries to their side, helping his aunt stand. "There is no need to stand on ceremony, especially considering the late hour, lady Beatrice."

Up close, Dimitri takes the time to examine her. No visible weapons, and there were no obvious outlines from under her nightgown. Beatrice's dark hair was pulled up into a bun, strands of loose hair dangling in front of her face. She was beautiful, of course, for nothing less than a beauty would catch his uncle's eyes, and in the dim light, her eyelashes casted shadows over her cheeks. Dimitri noted the strength of her arms- she had to have been strong, no matter how deceptive her looks were. Itha was a land where beasts roamed, and if her family took care of that territory, there was no way she was not trained in combat as well. All children of Faerghus were, after all.

Beatrice allows Dimitri to help her stand, and she attempts to hide a wince when she's pulled upright. "Your royal Majesty, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, this servant humbly requests an audience with you." Beatrice murmurs.

"Please, do come in," Dimitri says, gesturing to the door. Dedue strolls over and helps Beatrice inside, the maid brushing off her lady's skirt. "The hallway is not a place for discussion."

Dedue helps her into a chair, and she whispers her thanks, feather soft. Dimitri watches her. He cannot quite get a read on her, and perhaps she is acting falsely, but he cannot help to warm to her slightly- anyone that treated Dedue well from the start gave him a favorable impression. He settles in his own chair across from her, back straight.

"This is my maid, Amalie," Beatrice says, gesturing to the woman, who bows, strands of curly hair falling into her face. "She is my most trusted friend, and I do hope you'll excuse her presence."

"Lady Beatrice," Dimitri begins, quiet now. "You are my aunt. You do not have to speak so formally to me."

Dimitri watches her swallow. Whether or not it is out of nervousness or something else, he does not yet know. "...I see. Your Majesty, I am due to give birth within the next two moons."

"Congratulations," Dimitri tells her, genuine.

Beatrice chews down on her bottom lip quietly before ducking her head. "I... I have no intention on using these children to fight you for the throne, please believe me...!"

Dimitri remains silent for a moment. "What do you mean? Children?"

She places a hand on her pregnant belly. "All of the healers say that I am to have twins."

"Con... Congratulations," Dimitri repeats, surprised.

"I don't know how to begin..." Beatrice says, fidgeting in her chair. "Your uncle, the late king regent, did not intend for me to become... become pregnant. When it was revealed to him that I was, he wanted to get rid of the children. I... At the time, I wished to get rid of them as well. Until one day, before we could go through with the abortion, one of them kicked at my belly so hard, I collapsed. When I awoke, I saw his triumphant face, and I knew that at least one of my children possessed the Crest of Blaiddyd, for when you were to be born, your mother had a similar experience, proving that you would have a Crest when you were born."

Dimitri distantly remembers sitting by his father's knee on a snowy night long ago, telling him something like this. About how he nearly killed his mother in the womb from his kicks, and even how he possessed monstrous strength when he was a baby. His father had smiled recalling the story, but Dimitri was so distressed by the news that he'd cried.

His fingers close into a fist. One of his hands had curled onto the arm rest of his chair, and it breaks underneath his touch. Beatrice flinches, and Dimitri immediately regrets his actions.

"So he was going to use your children to... to fight me for the throne?" Dimitri asks, even though he already is aware of the answer.

Beatrice nods, hands folded in her lap.

Dedue moves so he is standing behind Dimitri, a comfortable presence there. Dimitri can hardly hear himself over the roaring of his ears. "...Why are you telling me this?"

Beatrice raises her head. "You may not believe me, but please. All I want is to keep these children safe. I will even disappear from this land, if needed. I know that I said that I wanted to get rid of the children in my belly, but... But now I want them safe. I don't intend on using them to challenge you. I know that sounds like a lie, and I know that you cannot trust me, but... You can even use them as your own successors, if you want. I will relinquish control as their mother, I don't care... As long as they're born safely, I don't care anymore."

Dimitri is not quick enough to stop his aunt from sliding off of her chair and bowing on the floor, head touching the ground. Her maid sputters at the sight, and attempts to pull her upright, but Beatrice is immovable on the floor.

"Do with me as you will, your Majesty. But whatever you decide, I implore you- please protect these children...!"

Dimitri bites down on his bottom lip and nearly draws blood.

.

The dream he just had haunts his thoughts, and he does not know whether or not he is grateful to his imagination or if he wants to run to his balcony and scream. Dimitri can see Byleth now, in that nightgown of his, laughing easily in his company and kissing him whenever he pleased and-

Dimitri slaps himself hard. And yet, he cannot stop his thoughts from straying...

How would the professor kiss? Dimitri has no experience in kissing, but he's sure that the professor had some. Would he teach him diligently, like he did in all matters, or would he kiss him swiftly and leave Dimitri a dizzy, flustered mess? Was he the type to kiss into people's mouths eagerly? Did he bite? Would he cup Dimitri's face gently and render him weak? 

He has a brief fantasy of the professor yanking him by the collar and kissing him roughly. He has another fantasy about the professor kissing crumbs from his cheek and licking his lips after tea. Dimitri hides his head in his hands fantasizing that they had shared the bed, when the professor offered him to stay in his room, and they'd share body heat until Dimitri spiraled into a needy mess.

Dimitri is a terrible student and a worse person. He shouldn't think of his professor like this.

But would the professor be adverse to Dimitri picking him up effortlessly and kissing him until they were both out of breath, pressing him up against the wall? Would he hate it if Dimitri pinned him-

Dimitri pinches himself again. 

Awful.

"Dedue, is it normal to feel guilty about one's thoughts?"

Dedue turns to him, brow furrowed. "I suppose it depends on the person's thoughts," he says, thoughtfully, "but as long as you do not act on them, it should be fine."

The two of them are busy rummaging through Dimitri's father's clothing, for it was far too late for Dimitri to have a new set of clothes tailored, especially since the coronation was tomorrow. It is difficult for Dimitri, not only because his father was taller than him, but every single time he remembered his father wearing these clothes, he'd had to swallow his rage and fight back memories.

No one would dare say anything if Dimitri did want to delay the coronation for some new clothing. However, even those who sneer at the notion of a new king wearing old clothes are aware- the throne is in need of a king.

Dimitri isn't so sure of that. And he would never stall an event simply because of old clothes, especially not his own coronation. How ridiculous, the nobles were, finding clothes so important.

Dedue picks up a thin white shirt and shows it to Dimitri. "If we cut the sleeves, perhaps..." Dedue mentions, thoughtful. He brings it up to Dimitri's chest and frowns at how big it is compared to his torso. "Your Highness, what do you think...? You're distracted again."

"I'm thinking about the professor," Dimitri says, head turned away so he cannot see the small quirk of Dedue's lips.

"Do you normally think about things that aren't the professor?" Dedue asks, and if Dimitri did not know better the man would sound innocent and well meaning. Unfortunately for both of them, Dimitri understands, and groans.

He's endlessly thankful that Dedue is at least comfortable enough in their friendship to joke with him. When they had first met, Dedue hardly allowed himself to meet Dimitri's eyes, which Dimitri had endlessly tried to rectify.

"Have you ever kissed anyone, Dedue?" Dimitri asks, fitfully not thinking about the professor from his dream, easily straddling him and laughing all the while.

"I have not," Dedue replies. "Thinking about kissing another person is not unusual, or so I believe. There is no need to feel guilty."

"He's my professor," Dimitri groans.

"And soon you'll graduate," Dedue reminds him, patiently. 

"He'll think that he's taking advantage of me even if I am no longer his student," Dimitri continues, mouth turned down.

Dedue nods. "Any sane adult would think the same. We are lucky to have a professor that would consider such a thing- I am not sure I would approve were he not able to realize that he could take advantage of you."

Sitting up, Dimitri frowns. "Dedue, I am going to be crowned tomorrow. How could anyone take advantage of me?"

The man inclines his head. "Anyone can take advantage of a person if they have emotions for the other, or vice versa," Dedue tells him. "Besides. I am simply stating what I think, your Highness. Perhaps you are the one making up all these excuses."

"They're not excuses," Dimitri says. "I just... I have never felt this way about a person before."

Dedue looks at him appraisingly. "I have never cared for anyone like the way you do for him either. I am not the best person to go to for advice."

"No, but you are my friend, Dedue."

"Your Highness..."

"Dimitri," he corrects, this time. 

"I cannot call you by name, your Highness." Dimitri opens his mouth, but Dedue barrels on before he can continue. "Even if you did command me."

Dimitri meets Dedue's gaze, eyes narrowing. "Stubborn."

"I aim to please," Dedue tells him, brows lifted slightly.

With a sigh, the subject is dropped. For now. Only the goddess knows how many times Dimitri had tried to convince Dedue to call him by name.

"He's still not over that man," Dimitri insists.

"I would be surprised if he was," Dedue says, smoothing down the wrinkles of Dimitri's shirt. Dimitri fusses at the fawning, but he allows it- he would rather have Dedue touch him than an unknown maid. "Your Highness, you'll drive yourself mad over this subject. Shall we endeavor to change it?"

"And talk about what?" 

"Lady Beatrice," Dedue says, and Dimitri fights a groan.

"I can't read her," Dimitri says, adjusting his cuffs.

Dedue meets his eyes over a dark blue cape. "So what do you wish to do?"

Dimitri runs a hand over his eyes.

"I don't know. Even so, those unborn children do not possess the blame for what my uncle had intended to do with them," Dimitri declares, teeth clenching. "It would be unjust to cast her away."

"Do you trust her, your Majesty?" 

Dimitri meets Dedue's eyes, and wants to laugh. "Of course not. She caught my uncle's eyes, after all. We must keep an eye on her." There was absolutely no way that his uncle would ever find a delicate, innocent maiden attractive, no matter how beautiful and rich they were. 

He is a terrible nephew.

His own thoughts betray him, straying from matters somehow more important than the topic of potential treason. The professor once again appears in his memory, radiant and lovely.

What he cannot believe most of all, is his own audacity. How dare his thoughts be presumptuous enough to think of the professor in such a manner, as if he was worthy of seeing him in such a way, as if he was worthy of calling him by name, as if he had the privilege of running a hand down that man's chest and rip out his heart as though it belonged to Dimitri to devour and snap up with his fangs.

There is a monster within him that cowers and bares itself for all to see, made awake in his dreams alone, curling up against what Dimitri had yet to lose and claiming it all as theirs, making a home inside his ribcage and spilling out of the sides like smoke. It rattles inside his chest, begging to escape and to wreak havoc- upon what, Dimitri is scared to know.

Dimitri is not surprised at his lack of self preservation. He spends every waking hour keeping it in check, every moment leashing it to the very last bits of his memory. Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd is a good boy, who was a great prince, who will become an excellent king. He does not stare at the ceiling thinking of a field doused in flames. A prince would never smile killing anyone. A king would not desire to level a country in search of revenge.

He is not a monster that relies on his bare instincts to claw at every bit of control to function, although he could be.

The professor is just so nice. He spends his days helping Dimitri teach orphans and listens to the worries of students over tea that always suits their tastes. The professor is just so kind. He returns lost items before people can realize they were missing and spends hours catching fish for the stray animals that dwelled in the academy. The professor is just so lovely, with his cupid's bow lips and slender wrists, especially drenched in the blood of enemies, wiping fluids from his mouth and stepping on corpses and piling up skull after skull and barely batting an eye as he rips through people with his sword the way Dimitri occasionally wishes to tear through him, and swallow him whole to keep him safe somewhere near his lungs or heart.

No matter how many people the professor kills, he remains pure and untouched in that monster's eyes. Dimitri wants to rip his own eyes out and place them in that kind professor's hands for even daring to think about him in such a degrading, horrifying, ugly, revolting, debasing manner. 

Byleth, _Byleth, **Byleth...**_

It repeats on and on until it is no longer a name, but a mere whisper, a feeling, one that worms its way into that monster's heart and hisses it as it spends eternity on one knee, begging, pleading, heart writhing on the floor in search of a heartbeat known only by another person's name. 

He wants to present his own heart on a silver-lined platter and watch the professor take a fork and knife to it, raising a piece to his lips for a small bite. He's drooling as though he was the one consuming life, as though his heart could ever satisfy that untouchable man.

Dimitri presses a hand against his eyes and sees the professor there again, straddling him. He's going to go mad. He's going to go mad obsessing over a man that likely never thinks of him at all. He's going to go mad, just like this, under the cool eyes of his professor, and he won't even allow himself to kiss the man even if he dies trying.

The king has the sudden urge to laugh himself to death thinking of the professor patting him on the head and telling him 'good job' as he brings him the head of the Flame Emperor, knowing he himself would be delirious with pleasure, out of his mind.

The mind is truly a terrifying place.

What is most terrifying, however, is the fact that he still insists that there is a separation between Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd and his 'monster,' as though they were not one and the same.

Dimitri itches for a quill. He'll write down all this thoughts again, not including his dreams, and present them to captain Jeralt again. The professor's father could help him.

It was awful of him to fixate on anyone or anything, especially since Dimitri seemed to bring tragedy everywhere he went.

"I want to wear the cape the professor gave me," Dimitri declares, suddenly.

Luckily for him, Dedue does not comment. He merely nods at him. "I shall go and retrieve it from your quarters," Dedue says, and before Dimitri can say otherwise, he runs off.

Pursing his lips, Dimitri slides the professor's letter out from under his coat. Before he can think otherwise, he slides a thumb underneath the wax seal, and opens the envelope.

.

Byleth peers around a stone corner to find a huge statue of an unknown figure, presumably some sort of god, and a number of adorable stray kittens and cats that scatter when they see him. He tries not to chase them, and wonders if there would somehow be an underground pond here so he could fish for them.

Since that Balthus person was apparently showing his students around Abyss, and since Byleth had absolutely no intention of sticking near Yuri any longer, he decided to explore on his own.

Yuri was certainly pretty, and had a way with words, which was why Byleth could not trust him, and so he slipped from the room, which was apparently a pub of some kind, in Abyss, that Yuri had emptied with one flick of his wrist. Certainly not a normal individual.

Byleth had poured out into the throng of people waiting to be let back in outside of the closed doors, and was distinctly reminded of his Lions- spying, meddling, and listening in.

When they met his eyes, they seemed to shrink away. He was used to that sort of treatment by now, and so he passed by as they parted the sea of people for him with nary a care.

"Hello there," a woman greets him, a thin veil shrouding her face. Her hands are locked together in prayer, and although she has not turned to look at him, he can feel her gaze upon him like a physical weight. "Have you come to pray?"

Byleth stares up at the unknown statue and shakes his head. The woman nods at him. "I see. This is not my god, and yet this is a sacred place of a sort, and so I come here to pray anyway. My god will not mind."

Surprisingly talkative. "Do you know who this statue is of?" Byleth asks, whisper soft. 

"No idea," the woman replies. "I hope that they're not offended by my praying here. Sometimes I leave offerings out for this god for letting me pray here anyway."

Byleth stares up at the statue again, crumbling and cracking in several places. A huge pair of stone wings covered the ceiling, as if shielding the ground from the sky. It reminded Byleth of the time at the ball, when Sothis had wings. He had no idea why she had suddenly sprouted wings. Perhaps simply for whatever look she was going for. Any other discerning features of the statue have been lost to time, or decay, or perhaps even a fight, and yet still they stand. He knows that this figure was likely not made for Sothis, and yet...

Spotting a lone, stubby candle, Byleth walks over to the pedestal and lights it with the snap of his fingers. He's careful not to start another inferno, and the candle sputters cinders for a split moment before settling, flickering although there is no wind.

The woman does not speak as Byleth sits next to her on a broken piece of rock. He glances at her, and sees that she's closed her eyes when her veil shifts. He does not want to bother her, but...

"Who do you worship?" Byleth asks, softly.

It takes a moment for her to reply. "A god from Duscur," she says, softly. 

Byleth can't help himself. "Won't you tell me about them?" He asks, his interest piqued.

The woman glances at him, and her hands drop to her lap. She seems to hesitate, and Byleth is ready to have his request rejected, but she shifts around to look at him.

"I worship a god of the home," she says. "I pray to return to my mother soon. That god reigns over things such as the bonds between loved ones, safety of the home, and family ties. Their name is Byviar, and they have blessed my village for generations."

She tenses as Byleth turns away. "I see," he says, staring out at one of the cats that have returned to stare at them. "Someone I care for is from Duscur. I wonder if I should pray to this god as well, to keep him safe."

Out of the corner of Byleth's eyes, he can see her relax. Her veil flutters as she turns to him, revealing a smile. "I'm sure that they will hear your prayer. Gods are wonderful like that."

He wonders if Sothis was actually the only goddess to exist, here. Were the other gods that were worshipped real? Perhaps they were. Byleth has no clue, he has only met the one, and even then he had no clue about her. Not her origins, not her story, not anything about her past. When they meet again next, he should ask her about other gods.

If Sothis woke to find him reading the bible that was allegedly created in her words, would she burst out laughing?

Still, praying could not hurt. He folds his hands together, feeling odd, and prays for the students that were not by his side- and stops. How exactly did one pray? Byleth is still confused on that matter. His father had avoided ever even mentioning religion to him, and although he grew up aware of it, he never knew what it was, and did not learn anything about it.

Byleth purses his lips. _Please keep my students safe,_ he thinks to himself, hoping that it would suffice.

"Byleth," a voice calls.

He turns to see Yuri leaning against a wall, grinning at him in a way that Byleth is not entirely fond of. 

"How did you find me?" Byleth asks.

Yuri points at his feet. "You're, uh, growing flowers in your wake. Besides, this is my turf. No matter where you go, I would be able to find you." 

Ah, yes, Byleth is not imagining the underlying threat in his words.

"Come on," Yuri tells him. "Balthus' little tour should be ending soon."

Byleth stares down and sees that, yes, apparently he could grow flowers without noticing now. He can see a line of spider lilies and asters dotting a path from the room, turning the corners. It's no wonder everyone had stared at him- if it wasn't for his hair and eyes, or even his hero's relic, it was apparently blossoming flowers from nothing now.

Better than a sudden lightning storm or setting something on fire, though. 

The woman waves a silent goodbye as Yuri escorts him back into the main halls of Abyss.

Byleth thinks that perhaps he would enjoy the dark, broken down labyrinth known as Abyss more if people weren't so inclined to stare at him. There were cats and mysterious corners and apparently a fighting ring, which he yearned to join, and all of these things which would immediately appeal to Byleth were it not for the obvious gazes upon his person.

Their eyes catch on his weapon, his hair, his eyes, and Byleth has never wanted to flee so badly. But most of all, people crowd behind him and gasp because apparently whenever he walks now, flowers sprout from underneath his booths.

He does not want them to be there, and yet they stubbornly emerge from the cracks in the dirt and tile, eager to sprout under his steps. A long trail of camellias and white lilies mark his path now, and small children emerge from shrouds of darkness to pick them, laughing despite the amount of adults that attempt to pull them from sight. They must have grown bold in Yuri's presence, sure that he would subdue Byleth if he tried anything.

"You must be terrible at stealth," Yuri comments, bemused. He has not left his side ever since that they had left the room with the statue, and Byleth is not self absorbed nor naive enough to think that it is all because of him, but rather due to who he was to interact with. 

Abyss is an odd place with damp air and shady figures all about, but it also contained a number of people seemed more suspicious of Byleth than he was of them, those who attempted to hide their obvious disabilities, such as a missing hand or leg, elderly who pulled children from his path, and a number of mercenaries that rose their eyebrows at the sight of him.

"This does not normally happen," Byleth replies, barely a whisper. His shoulder brushes past a wall momentarily and vines twine themselves into existence, bougainvillea flowers blooming slowly, and then all at once, a shocking shade of magenta against the murky brown of the brick walls.

Another child appears in front of his path, gap toothed and far too skinny. "Can you make roses? Grandma loves roses."

"Well, can you?" Yuri asks, voice suddenly degrees warmer and honey sweet in front of a small child. Byleth kneels down to meet their eyes. That is what he does with the orphans of the academy, and he does not want to intimidate anyone. Well. More than he already has.

"I do not know, but I shall try," Byleth says, not knowing what he will do if he does not succeed, for in fact, he has never done such a thing on command. He presses a gloved hand to a crack of dark earth and pictures one of the roses he grows in the green house, petals the softest shade of pink.

An orange rose appears, and the sparse thorns on the stem fall to the ground before anyone can touch it. Byleth blinks at it. At least it was a rose.

"I wanted a green rose," the child tells him, petulantly.

"I am not sure those exist," Byleth tells him, matter of fact and yet not cold.

"I didn't think that a spell to summon flowers existed either, mister," the child says, "but here you are! Mister, teach me!"

Byleth blinks. "Um," he begins, and closes his mouth. He glances over at Yuri to help him, and the man merely stares back at him for a few heartless seconds before he finally smiles again, though it is at the child.

"Sorry, kid," Yuri tells them. "He's got a job for the Ashen Wolves," he says, and blessedly that man, Balthus, returns with his students and his father.

Jeralt sends him a look and Byleth simply nods.

"We should head out," Jeralt tells them, voice carrying across the dimly lit halls of Abyss. All heads turn to him, but the man seems hardly aware of the attention. "The faster we draw the mercenaries out, the better. Byleth... Find a way to stop those flowers beforehand. It wouldn't do for those to be crushed in battle."

Byleth stares out at the meadow that's suddenly spread out around his knees with a frown. "How," he asks. He spots blue bells and long grasses and tiny little yellow blossoms that he cannot name.

"Why not ask them nicely?" Claude offers, because he's finding this hilarious, of course.

Standing from the path of nature that had randomly sprouted underneath him, Byleth frowns. He hates being out of control. "Please stop," Byleth tells the flowers, scolding.

Somehow, mercifully, the growth of nature stops.

The gathered crowd of Abyssians- when was there a crowd- all whisper among themselves. Byleth sighs softly. At least it is not fire. That would not exactly be a very kind way to introduce himself to people he has not met before.

He's glad to be among his students again, and he can pretend that they're all being stared at as a group and not because an odd man suddenly decided to grow a flower patch that would wither and die without sunlight. 

Byleth is angry that he could not be inconspicuous the first time he arrived in an unknown place, and he's eager to leave and disappear down more dark hallways, even though the stares don't stop.

Balthus is eyeing him and his father thoughtfully, and Constance keeps staring at the Sword of the Creator, fingers tapping a rhythm against her lips. Hapi pretends not to stare at his hair but it is quite obvious. At least the three of them pretend not to stare, because their leader is open about it.

It is not an appreciative stare, one that Byleth had wilted under mere moments ago, but a speculative one. Although Yuri had asked specifically after him, it seemed to be out of desperation if anything, and his distrust was plain to see, seeping though his perfect smile and charming eyes. 

Byleth hopes that the mercenaries that were apparently targeting Abyss would come quickly. That they would hurry. He can taste a battle on his tongue, and he savors the taste in his mouth, knows it the way he knows his blade and knows it the way he knows the look of his father's back.

He needs something to take the edge off. Unfamiliar eyes upon his skin crawled there like bursts of static, unpleasant and hard to control.

Was this worth it?

Byleth focuses on the echo of their footsteps and the light conversation that Lysithea and Cyril were sharing somewhere in front of him. A chalice that could bring back the dead was likely worth whatever trouble this Yuri person could bring.

And speaking of Yuri, something was... odd, about him. He wasn't an ordinary person, that was for sure, nor did he seem like an ordinary leader. Byleth grew cold at the reminder that he'd been watched. But for how long? And for what reason? Why wasn't he called to help before, and why was Yuri trusting him now?

Byleth glances at the man, who winks when they meet eyes. He was likely in the business of getting whatever he needed with a charming look and his brazen, suggestive words. Unfortunately for him, Byleth was not the type to be swayed by a pretty face. 

Something about Yuri reminded Byleth of himself. It was very odd, and Byleth disliked how he couldn't put a name to it.

Well, no matter how docile and tame a wolf looked, it was still simply a wolf, and was prone to bite.

.

The room they're led to is massive, with deceptively tall ceilings and with a wide slab of stone in the center, rows and rows of thin steps leading up to absolutely nothing. There is evidence of broken pillars and other such debris, and although there is a thick layer of dust upon certain places, the air is still breathable. Hilda sneezes loudly the moment they enter, rubbing at her nose.

"Ugh," Hilda whines, with a loud sniff. "Isn't there anywhere else we can lead those weirdos?"

"I think an underground arena is the perfect place to lead them," Balthus booms, glancing around the place with a fire in his eyes. Byleth had to admit- this would be the perfect spot for a brawl. "You sure know some great spots, Yuri."

"I heard about this place from someone back in town," Yuri says, looking equally thrilled about the ruined arena. "It hasn't been in use for a long time. I figured it could prove useful, so I spent some time clearing out the debris that was blocking the entrance."

Byleth glances around the huge hall and wonders if it truly was some sort of arena, or something else. Their voices and footsteps echoed, making the room feel wider and more lonely the longer they stayed there, and the air only became hotter with time.

"Ahaha!" Constance laughs, spinning around on a heel and clutching her hands to her chest. She accidentally kicks up a cloud of dust, and makes Lysithea glare at her as she coughs. "This place is magnificent! It is just spacious enough to contain my glory! I shall not hold back here!"

Waving a puff of dust from her face, Hapi takes in the room with wide eyes. "Large, isolated... I wonder if it would be okay for me to sigh here..."

Byleth immediately turns to her with an eager expression, and she winces at the sight. "Maybe not a dragon, but... Maybe I can summon something as equally cool... Wait. That's not the issue."

Yuri's eyes are evaluating as he glances between the two of them, but he merely tucks a strand of lavender coloured hair behind one ear. "I wish, Hapi, but no. Absolutely no sighing. And, Constance, be glorious in moderation. Understood? This place is so big that if it collapses, all of Abyss will fall with it. The whole reason we're luring our enemies here is to avoid damaging Abyss. Don't lose sight of that."

Constance laughs, a dramatic hand over her mouth. She really, truly reminded him of Ferdinand. Perhaps they would get along. "I am well aware of our aim!"

Shaking his head, Balthus runs a gloved hand through his hair. Distantly Byleth wonders if it was hard as rock, for some reason. "Sure, but that doesn't mean we can trust you to show restraint."

Byleth turns his head to his side to cast away his thoughts of a magnificent dragon appearing out of nowhere, destroying their enemies in one swoop of their wings. He still was curious if whether or not Hapi could summon a dragon, though, and he thinks about it as they bicker.

"...Elfie will have to answer for it," someone says.

"Elfie?" Linhardt asks.

"Aelfric," Jeralt pipes up, unexpectedly. All eyes turn to him, even Byleth. "Right? Aelfric, from the church."

The four Abyssinians meet each other's eyes. "Yeah, that's right," Balthus says, after a weighty pause. He seems to be sizing up Jeralt with his eyes. "He's the one who opened up this place to folks with nowhere else to turn. Folks like us. He gave us a home, a new life."

Constance looks cheerful at the mention of Aelfric, demeanor bright. "It is Aelfric himself who put forth the idea of establishing the Ashen Wolf house- that is us, by the by. Sadly, he faces opposition within the church, and so he cannot openly deploy the knights to aid us."

"That means," Yuri cuts in, effectively stopping Constance's rambling and making her puff out her cheeks until she is red with anger, "that Aelfric relies upon us to protect the people who live here. Us... And now, you. I hope you're ready, professor. We're counting on you."

"Professor?" Flayn asks, eyebrows practically flying off of her face.

"Are you not a professor at the officer's academy?" Constance asks. Byleth stares. This girl had such a wild range of expressions, it was almost exhausting to look at. 

Yuri smiles in a disarming manner that has Byleth itching for his sword. "Should we all just call you by name then, Byleth?"

"Um, no-"

"You can't just call him by name, that's not fair-"

"Why are you being so rude-"

"Treat him with respect-"

Suddenly, Yuri laughs aloud again, making his three companions stare. The Blue Lions gather around Byleth as though they could save his dignity or something as equally ridiculous. "Are all surface dwellers this fun to tease-? Wait. Here they come."

The students tense, hands flying to their weapons, as a handful of mercenaries spill into the huge room, immediately engaging them. Dorothea mutters something unflattering under her breath.

"Aelfric..." Jeralt mutters, underneath his breath. "Opposition, huh?"

"Is something wrong?" Linhardt asks, oddly intent.

It is Byleth and Jeralt's turn to share a look, communicating with their eyes alone. "No, nothing. Let's just focus on the battle."

And Byleth turns from his father to see-

A gasp.

"The Death Knight," Flayn mutters, shakily.

Byleth blinks several times. He even wipes at his eyes, just to make sure this wasn't one of his tired illusions or perhaps even his sight going. That surely was not the Death Knight here, underground, horribly brooding and as annoying as ever. He closes his eyes, and opens them to see...

Nope. The Death Knight was still there, in his ridiculous armor upon his ridiculous horse, eyes trained on Byleth.

Byleth takes a deep, deep breath. "Is that the Death Knight?" He asks, just for confirmation.

"It sure does look like him," Linhardt offers, tone so bland Byleth is not sure if it's sarcastic. "You know, after meeting him constantly and wondering about him, he's not that scary after all."

Red eyes flicker over to Linhardt at the comment. He steps behind Byleth ever so slightly, hands fisted in his professor's cloak from the sudden shock. "I may have miscalculated. Professor, what should we- professor?"

Byleth doesn't even think before he snaps his fingers and the Death Knight quite literally catches fire, alight with flames. It is a monstrosity of an inferno, enveloping everything around the Knight, flames licking at the floors and walls.

"Holy _SHIT?!_" Claude yelps. 

"_Byleth,_" his father warns. "Warn me first."

"IS THAT SERIOUSLY THE ISSUE HERE?!" Claude demands, jaw dropping to the floor.

"Professor, what are you doing?!" Edelgard demands.

"Don't forget who that person is related to," Jeralt reminds him. Byleth swears very loudly once, and all eyes turn to him, even Yuri's, who looks far too delighted for someone who had just stabbed a man who got too close.

Byleth grumbles, but uses a Pulse anyway. He finds himself in the middle of one of the Death Knight's odd rambles.

"The time has come..." The Death Knight rasps. "Once again, will you make me feel-"

"Why are you here?" Byleth demands.

This stops the Death Knight's rambling for a moment, before it picks up again. 

"You will-"

"I thought I threw your ass in jail," Jeralt interrupts again, making the Death Knight turn toward him. For some odd reason, although the mask reveals nothing, Byleth wonders if he is upset at being interrupted. Serves him right.

"We should put a bell on him," Lysithea offers.

"Professor, what should we- Professor?" 

Byleth is busy weighing a scale in his head, of all the things that could go wrong if Byleth duels with him again. Mercedes' smiling face flashes in his head, soft and gentle.

He sighs, and glares up at the Death Knight, trying not to go over to him and stab him to death. Mercedes would be sad, after all. Perhaps if Byleth could find something for Emile to do for him... "Get down here, Death Knight. Let's settle this. For good."

It wouldn't hurt for Byleth to command him something, would it?

"...Oh?"

Jeralt glances over to his son with raised eyebrows. "Do you really think I would let you be the only one to kick his ass?"

"Well, it seems as though the professor has a target," Yuri comments, matter of fact. "Just as well- that Death Knight person... The professor can handle him. I don't think we should engage."

"What is going on...?" Edelgard demands. "Are we really going to let the professor and the captain fight the Death Knight on their own?"

"The professor is literally glowing," Claude comments, just as mercenaries spill out from the darkness, lured by their footsteps. Byleth stares down at himself to find that yes, he was glowing. "I am not getting in the middle of whatever that is. Feel free to try and stop him, little princess."

Edelgard rolls her eyes to the heavens and groans. She looks as though she wishes to protest, but cannot find the words to say so, expression flickering constantly. "The professor is surely capable," she says, "but-"

"Can we focus on the mercenaries?" Hapi demands. 

"The professor's got it," Lysithea announces, confidently. She raises a hand and knocks a man over with a sweep of magic. "Let's just beat these guys already!"

With a grin and a flourish of his rapier, Yuri grins, full of glee and malice. "Never a dull moment with you surface dwellers."

"I'd prefer if my life was more dull, thanks," Hapi complains. It's as if there is a cue- Byleth races forward, and everyone moves as one towards a fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> byleth is so sick of the death knight by now lol hdhdhd he's basically a mosquito in his eyes by now.
> 
> also yes i made up a duscur god cause they wont drop their lore. fanfiction ahoy lol
> 
> AT THIS POINT I SHOULD PROBABLY ADD FINGER LICKING OR SMTH TO THE FUCKING TAGS TBH BUT THAT'S VEERING INTO TERRITORY THAT DOESN'T SUIT THE FICS RATING 
> 
> i was nervous writing dimis perspective this chapter cause unlike byleth hes in tune with his feelings, perhaps far too much for his liking, and yeah whatever i wrote sword juice again leave me alone dhdhhdhd soon we are getting proper romance im awaiting the day god but i hope this chap. had something u enjoyed lol
> 
> next time on godspeed! the final (?) showdown between byleth and the death knight, with jeralt as adjutant! the coronation begins, what dimi saw in the letter is revealed! look forward to it!
> 
> i fucking overestimated myself and next chapter is the one where byleth is Not Okay. but that's fine dbdvdbd i also was watching the word count for this chapter- with the birthday of godspeed next also makes 300k words for this fic when the next chapter is up! ....i fucking hate myself why are there so many words. thank you all so much for sticking with me all this time ily. without y'alls support and love i couldn't have written so much 
> 
> it's been a whole fucking year and i still cant write fight scenes but we'll see how next chapter goes aaa
> 
> thank you so very much for reading ♡
> 
> byleth/dimitri B rank  
byleth/dedue B rank  
byleth/felix B rank  
byleth/annette B rank  
byleth/ingrid B rank  
byleth/sylvain B rank  
byleth/mercedes B rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt B rank  
byleth/ferdinand B rank  
byleth/lysithea B rank  
byleth/cyril B rank  
byleth/flayn B rank  
byleth/caspar B rank  
byleth/dorothea C+ rank  
byleth/marianne C rank
> 
> byleth/jeritza C rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/sothis A rank  
byleth/claude C+ rank  
byleth/yuri ??? rank  
byleth/edelgard C rank  
byleth/rhea C+ rank


	47. fool's gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome back y'all 
> 
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY GODSPEED! technically it was yesterday but whatever lol. god it's been a year, huh. a very long year. thank you for reading and enjoying godspeed, no matter when you found this fic, whether when there was only like one chapter or even just now. thank you so much. without your support, i could have never gotten so far. thank you so much 
> 
> i wrote 300k+ for one fic in a year. i fucking hate myself so much. godspeed has simultaneously been my baby, my child, my dear offspring whom i would die for, and also my personal hell and prison. i love godspeed but god i hate it, but also i love my fic.
> 
> IM SO SORRY FOR NOT REPLYING TO THE COMMENTS YET, I HAD A WILD WEEK DHDHDGDHDGDHD
> 
> warning for violence and violence against a horse. please take care of yourself!

Ignoring all feelings of guilt and unease, Dimitri's hands shake as he opens the envelope. He slides the letter out with trembling fingers and unfolds the pages. There were more pages than he expected, and they were a dusty brown that smelled distinctly of ink and dust. 

He was stalling. 

The letter was simply a letter, and yet he was stalling as though he were afraid of its contents, even though he had absolutely no idea what lied within.

Dimitri feels as if he should not be doing this. Despite such a feeling, he unfolds the first letter on top to read the first line, and-

_You aren't reading this before your coronation, are you, Dimitri? Of course not. Perhaps my doubts are unfounded. But I must remind you not to read this letter unless your coronation is over, please. Continue reading, if it is._

The prince immediately folds the letter back up, embarrassed beyond belief. He can feel the heat radiating off of his face. Caspar was right, or perhaps Felix was. Either the professor could read minds or had some sort of seer powers. It was unfair how easily he could read them all.

Suddenly, he pinches at his cheek. No, Dimitri was not going to bend. He had already resigned himself to opening and reading the letter now. And there was no way the professor could read minds, or anything of the sort. He just clearly knew his students.

If he knew, then he was absolutely aware that Dimitri would want to read the letter, right?

He opens the letter again.

_Congratulations on your coronation, Dimitri._

Once again he puts the letter down. He feels extraordinarily guilty. Dimitri runs a careful hand over his face to smother a smile. That professor of his, really.

Dedue appears in the door again, cape folded over his forearm. Immediately his eyes drop to the letter, and once again Dimitri feels wildly embarrassed and flustered beyond compare. Wordlessly, Dedue strides over to his prince and drapes the cape over his shoulders.

For some reason, he can feel his face heat up. The cape smelled distinctly of chamomile tea, the brand that the professor preferred. Whenever they spent tea time together, the professor would smile as he pulled out the little tin of chamomile, and Dimitri couldn't help but feel... Entranced. Bewitched. Put under a spell, of some sort, with that soothing perfume of tea hanging about them. 

It was as if the professor had sewn this over a cup of tea, perhaps even thinking about him-

"Your Highness. How does the cape fit?" Dedue asks. Dimitri immediately shakes his head to rid himself of these thoughts.

"It's a bit big, but..." Dimitri turns around to stare into a mirror. Inexplicably, Dimitri feels as though he is staring at someone else. Someone, perhaps, someone that could even be worthy of that gentle professor. Such an odd feeling. The cape's hem drags slightly on the floor, but the fur lining makes it seem purposeful, and gallant. With the correct armor, Dimitri could even wear it in battle- He supposes that was the point.

A cape that could prevent lethal attacks.

Dimitri draws the cape further over his shoulders, feeling as though he was brought into a hug. He could feel the affection of the one who made the cape; there were pockets in the lining that could fit daggers, if he so chose, and it was warm, clearly made out of consideration for Faerghus' long winters.

"Tell me that I'm not making a stupid face right now," Dimitri declares, feeling his red cheeks.

Dedue's lips curve up ever so slightly. "It is not a stupid face. You are simply smiling quite brightly, Your Highness. You look like a young maiden in love, pining after one of their handsome suitors."

Dimitri buries his head in his hands. "You have been hanging out with Ashe and reading his romance novels, have you not?"

"I must educate myself on matters of the heart," Dedue says, with a little bow. "Especially since you insist on coming to me for romance advice, of all things."

The prince has the distinct urge to throw himself onto his bed, roll around, and perhaps hide under his sheets for five years without ever coming out. 

A knock on the door heralds the arrival of a smirking man. "Knock knock," Sylvain greets, as he flings open the door without any care for propriety or even basic manners. "How's the future king- wow. You've got the most dopey smile on your face. Did you open the professor's letter? Did it turn out to be a confession?"

Dimitri immediately shoves the letter back into the envelope. Despite his haste, he's careful to not fold or tear at any pages. Sylvain laughs at the sight, closing the door behind him. "Guess not. I bet you read one line and felt embarrassed about it."

"You know me too well," Dimitri says, frowning.

"Hey, I did grow up with you," Sylvain muses, conversationally. "But I've never seen you so gone on anyone."

"Please stop," Dimitri insists. "You forget I grew up with you as well, and that I also know everything about you. Including your own feelings."

"We all know I'm charming, thanks," Sylvain says, running a hand through his hair and winking as though a horde of invisible admirers were there to swoon over him.

Dimitri rolls his eyes. "Felix."

"What about Felix?" Sylvain asks. "Wait, don't tell me. Why else would you bring him up suddenly? Is he hurt? Did he get sick? Ugh, that Felix never ever takes care of himself, seriously. I'll have to go and check on him later."

Dedue and Dimitri share a look.

"You cannot even tell who has feelings for you," Dimitri accuses, attempting to hide his shame. "You cannot even tell who you have feelings for."

Sylvain begins to count on his fingers. "Well, there is that maid with the braids, and then that minor noble with the freckles," Sylvain lists off. Dimitri's nose wrinkles.

"Felix," Dimitri insists.

"What about Felix?" Sylvain demands, again. "Don't tell me he actually got a serious injury or something. I'll have to go and-"

"Stop fretting," Dimitri cuts in, attempting and nearly failing not to roll his eyes. "And I rest my case."

Sylvain sighs, lost and forlorn. "I did come here for a reason other than to tease you."

"So you _did_ come to tease me."

"Maybe. The point is, Rodrigue's looking for you. That prayer thing is tonight after all, and he wants you to eat before you go." Sylvain tells him.

The holy kingdom of Faerghus has had a tradition since time immemorial. Before the first king separated Faerghus from the Empire, he had prayed the entire night for the goddess' blessing without stopping to sleep, or so the legend went. Ever since then, all of the succeeding kings have followed in his footsteps, and have prayed before their coronation for success, for a great rule, and other such things. Only then were they properly allowed to wield Areadbhar and rule.

Apparently when Dimitri's uncle had become king regent, he had simply scoffed at the idea, claiming it didn't matter whether or not he prayed- he was never going to be able to wield Areadbhar. He had fled the chapel from within the castle within minutes, or so the maids had said, as they whispered amongst themselves.

"I understand," Dimitri says, voice low. Sylvain nods before ducking out of the room, clearly on his way to look for a certain stern swordsman.

Dimitri recalls catching the eyes of the goddess peering over Byleth's shoulder at him. Sees her glance over him as if staring into his soul, watches her watch over Byleth. Her eyes were the oddest shade of green, so similar to Byleth's own and yet so unnerving all the same.

At times, he could hardly believe that the goddess had really returned from her star, and that she was indeed the goddess. However, the miracles that seemed to occur in her wake were proof enough- it was simply that Dimitri was angry with her, so angry he could hardly look straight at her.

Would she hear his prayers? Would she even care?

Absentmindedly, his hands return to the envelope, tracing the letters that the professor had carefully scrawled out onto the paper. He takes a deep breath, knowing that the soft scent of chamomile would soon fade.

"Want me to read it for you, if you were unable to?" Dedue offers. Dimitri holds it to his chest and frowns, and is rewarded with another one of Dedue's small, quiet smiles. "I understand. Shall we go and fetch some supper?"

.

The moment the sun begins to set, Dimitri is thrown into a bath with petals floating above the bubbles, and then made to wear his most simple robes. Something about not showing extravagance in the goddess' presence. He snorts at the thought that she would genuinely care about what he wore, and what he would smell like.

No one says anything as he insists on wearing the professor's cape over his white clothes. He is guided to the castle's chapel in bare feet, the cloak trailing across the floor, Rodrigue at his side.

"Your Highness," Rodrigue tells him, just before he enters. "I am sure you already know this, but these prayers are important, even if you are not incredibly devout."

"I know, Rodrigue." Dimitri says, eyes on the huge wooden doors before the chapel. The chapel was quite humble in comparison to the one at the officer's academy, but it was still quite remarkable especially considering they were known as the 'holy kingdom.' Pearl white brick walls with the appearance of marble, tall windows of stained glass on either side of the dark doors, depicting saint Seiros and the goddess.

His eyes catch on the white figure, a halo of golden light around her head. It was hard to connect that depiction with that floating figure that hovered near Byleth, draping over his shoulders.

"You've met the goddess, have you not?" Rodrigue says, as though that was not a particularly baffling sentence. "What was she like? Rumors don't do anything justice. And she hasn't left the Central Church... It's hard to believe that that is the actual goddess, but everyone who meets her claims she performs miracles. I must say, I cannot believe it myself. Why now? And what was she trying to say, at the ball?"

"Everyone's furious," Dimitri says, still staring at the stained glass windows. "It's not only that they targeted the goddess, but many nobles and even commoners were there. They can't find anyone that could have possibly controlled the demonic beasts. Of course, the Archbishop is very angry as well. She's not... at all pleased with this turn of events."

Rodrigue does not reply for awhile, and when Dimitri turns to look, he sees Rodrigue kneeling. "Oh, Rodrigue, please get up-"

"I failed you, Your Highness," Rodrigue says, sounding choked up. He doesn't raise his head. "You are far too young to take the throne. I am sorry that you must take on such a burden, at a young age. I am sorry that I could not protect your uncle. You are well within your rights to be angry with me."

Dimitri stares down at the man, and the shaking line of his back. If he lifts his head... Dimitri does not want to see this man cry.

"How could I be angry with you, Rodrigue?" Dimitri says, finally.

"Your Highness-"

"I am just angry with myself," Dimitri declares, spinning on a heel and entering the chapel before Rodrigue can reply.

The doors slam behind him.

While this chapel did not have the high ceilings and the massive halls that the cathedral possessed, it did have a statue of the goddess that was visited from all parts of Fódlan, due to its magnificence and expert craftsmanship. It was a huge figure, with white robes decorating her body, so similar to real fabric and silk that many had reached out to confirm whether it was simply cloth draped across a stone figure.

The goddess was posed with her arms out, as if welcoming any who watched her into her stone embrace. 

Dimitri had not been inside this chapel ever since the Tragedy of Duscur. The last time he was here, his father had sat him down on a pew as he prayed, and Dimitri had merely stared blankly at the statue as though it would come to life and speak his name.

He walks down the center of the chapel. It may not be as grand as the cathedral, but it was large and hollow enough to echo his footsteps, no matter how quietly he walked along on bare feet.

Dimitri clasps his hands together. "Can you hear me?" The prince asks, aloud. No one was near. No one could hear him speak from outside.

"Are you listening?" Dimitri asks, again. 

Of course, the smiling face of the goddess does not answer. Dimitri raises his head and thinks about how inaccurate the statue portrayed her.

"I hate you," Dimitri declares, finally. Hair falls into his eyes, still damp from his bath. "I hope you are listening. I despise you. More than anything, I despise my weaknesses. I loathe how long I have prayed to you, desperately looking for answers, as though you would reply... How could you sit upon your star in heaven and ignore all of the suffering on your earth, and then return as though nothing has happened?"

The statue's smile remains intact. 

"I realize now..." Dimitri begins again, desperately trying to find the words. "I realize that I cannot exactly hate you for everything that has transgressed. Many people have suffered due to my inadequacies as well. Dedue's people. My kingdom. Those dearest to me. I am not asking for your blessings, or your favor. When I finally take my revenge... Will you protect them, the way you do the professor? I will accept any punishments for my arrogance the moment you drag me into the eternal flames. But I am human, and I am alive now, and I will carve a path that is my own, and no mortal nor deity can stop me. I will rebuild this kingdom anew, atop my ashes, if necessary."

A pause. Dimitri finds a chuckle build up in his chest, and he runs a hand through his hair. "It's been so long since I have prayed. I have long forgotten how to end a prayer."

The prince stands and walks over to a pew in the front row, hand trailing the dark wood. If he closes his eyes, he can imagine his father sitting there, devout in prayer. He sits down, almost meekly, pulling the cloak further over his shoulders.

"...I cannot forgive you," Dimitri continues, as he slumps against the pew. Filtered light streams into the room and illuminates his face, an odd tint of violet. "I know this is self-indulgence, I know this is arrogant of me, especially after everything that I have said, but..."

Dimitri closes his eyes and prays normally, as if none of that has happened. He prays for good tidings for his kingdom. He prays for the safety of his people and for the chance for their bonds with the other countries to be restored. He prays for the souls of those that he has lost. He prays for the ones he has yet to lose.

He prays that he'll one day find the ones responsible for every little bit of his suffering. Those involved with the Tragedy. Those who took advantage of him before his uncle became king regent. 

The prince prays and prays that they'll all die by his hand one day.

Before Dimitri can even think about it, he finds himself praying that he'll reunite with the professor soon, and then snorts. If the goddess favored anyone, it was his professor. A part of him was bitter about the clear favoritism, but a part of him was grateful for it- Dimitri would not know what to do if he were to lose another person that he cared deeply for.

She would bestow her protection upon the professor, surely.

Dimitri folds his hands in the material of his cape, large enough to be his blanket. He feels oddly at peace, anger seeping out of him as he prays that the professor was in good health, and does not stop praying for the people he loves until he sees the moon rise, high in the night sky.

.

Byleth would really love for Sothis to have awoken in that moment. Although he would have used a Divine Pulse to stop himself from hurting the Death Knight, she would have cheered him on. In practice, it was very nice to have her validation, although he knows she really wouldn't want him to be set ablaze, at least for Mercedes' sake. Was it so wrong to want some sort of positive validation to Byleth's sudden pyromania? Absolutely. He was aware that it was bad to validate such actions. Still...

Fighting the Death Knight with the intent of not killing the man seemed difficult. He's done it before, but never has he been this annoyed while doing so.

"Byleth!" Jeralt calls, and Byleth ducks just in time for him to dodge that horrendously ominous scythe and scramble for purchase to the floor. He cannot afford to get distracted, even though when he slides to dodge, a cloud of dust kicks up and makes his nose wrinkle.

The Death Knight's horse leaps down a small flight of stairs to properly join Byleth and his father at the bottom, although he truly could have taken Byleth's head off from above.

Byleth feels bad about this, but he has no other option. He charges the horse with his father behind him, noting the horse's armor. They've also got odd protrusions from their armor, like their rider, and Byleth frowns at how deadly their tusks of iron seemed. 

"Coming closer?" The Death Knight drawls, raspy. Byleth watches the man adjust his grip on the scythe and charge in.

Byleth feels abysmally guilty. He'll heal the horse later. As they charge in, Byleth rolls to the side, protecting his head, and as the horse stomps past him, he flicks out his wrists and slashes the side of the horse. It just barely nicks the horse's skin, and they make a loud, keening sound of fright. He frowns. That armor was suspiciously resilient.

"Face me alone," Emile rasps, yanking on his reins so that the horse turns. He kicks at the horse's sides to urge it forward, but his father appears in front of him, lance at the ready. He hasn't brought his horse, but he's still a force to be reckoned with without it.

"You probably shouldn't become arrogant," Jeralt tells the Death Knight, and their weapons clash. The Death Knight remains silent, but he pulls at the horse's reins again to charge back in.

Byleth frowns at him. They would need to get Emile off of the horse for a better brawl. Ready to dodge out of the way, Byleth's frown only becomes deeper as he watches his father stand still, waiting for the Death Knight to charge.

"Father-"

"Watch, Byleth," Jeralt says. 

The Death Knight charges at his father, and his father steps back slightly before throwing his lance with a wide swing of his arm and with powerful muscles, sailing in smoothly in the direction of the horse, already charging their way-

A blood curdling sound fills the air. 

The lance had flown true, and had lodged itself into the horse's eye. It goes down hard, armor crashing against armor, seizing against the floor. The Death Knight isn't quick enough to not fall with his horse, and Jeralt takes the time to calmly walk over to the noisy, dying horse and he pulls the lance from their head without blinking.

The sound it makes is wet and the splatter of blood it leaves behind is ugly. 

Jeralt does not turn to his son. "Memorize that," he says, and Byleth nods. There is a low whistle from somewhere.

Byleth knew he should have taken care of the horse before his father had done the deed, but he was hesitating. He knew that the rider would become more vulnerable if their steed was injured. That didn't make the situation any better. There was no use. He only hopes that Marianne hadn't seen, and he spends valuable seconds attempting to heal the horse's wound. It makes a sound that Byleth hates.

The Death Knight has barely had the wind knocked out of him before he stands again, grabbing his scythe from the ground and charging.

Byleth spends most of his time dodging. A dangerous arc flies over his head, and he ducks to avoid it. In that time where Emile swings, Jeralt approaches, not allowing Emile any leeway for a second swing, much less another flick of his wrist.

Jeralt's lance catches across the mask, and it scratches across the hard metal, sparks flying and creating an unpleasant sound. Byleth doesn't have time to wince, and he steps into the Death Knight's space to swing his sword, slashing against the knight's armor.

Emile leaps back in an attempt to create more space. Perhaps if this were a regular sword fight, Byleth would think it smart, but Byleth's sword could extend. It flicks across his mask, and it shatters the part of it, bits flying.

He sends bursts of fire magic at Emile so he's forced to crouch and roll away before closing the distance, and then halfheartedly backing away, before moving again.

Byleth frowns.

They circle each other for a moment, the pair both contemplating their next actions.

"Where are you running to?" Byleth asks, deciding to make the decision for them. He runs towards the man, bringing the sword down in a large swing, drawing blood on its course down Emile's arm. He can hear Emile suck in a breath before he raises a hand and conjures a thunder spell, which Byleth has to practically throw himself to the side to dodge, although he is unsuccessful. It catches him across the chest, and he can feel it send sparks of lightning through his body, making him shake and seize up for a moment that Emile takes advantage of, using his other hand to bring the scythe down.

Byleth feels blood splatter across his shoulder and winces at the sharp wound. He hopes that his cape didn't get torn, but it was unlikely.

"Hands off," Jeralt hisses, appearing behind Emile when he is distracted by the move, and shoving his lance through a chink in the man's armor. Byleth can see the lance pierce through the man's skin.

Emile barely even makes a sound as he rips himself off of the weapon, blood pouring out of the wound. He leans toward Byleth as he pulls off, and Byleth takes that time to slash at him with his sword, although his hands still quiver with the force of that spell. Emile was surprisingly, or perhaps not surprisingly talented with magic.

The Death Knight hardly flinches over the hit. Byleth catches the eyes of his father over the man's shoulder, and sees his quiet anger. He needs to finish this.

Before the Death Knight can even move, Byleth conjures a wind spell and flings it at the man, hoping that he doesn't tear the man apart. Judging by his impromptu magic moments, Byleth would not be surprised if he accidentally cut Emile in half.

He sighs in relief when the man is only flung far away into a stone wall, although that relief is short lived as he realizes that half of Emile's face has smashed into the wall with the side of his body.

Byleth winces and runs over, praying he was not dead.

The Death Knight stirs weakly, tossing his head to the side to stare at Byleth's approach. The broken mask is cracked just so that Byleth is able to see most of the man's right eye, the curve of his nose, and part of his lips.

"Are you going to kill me now?" Emile asks, oddly coherent for a man who had been violently thrown into a wall. He looks somewhat hopeful at the idea. "Are you? I cannot wait. Oh, what a sight you would make."

"You probably loosened something up in there in his head," Jeralt tells him, voice sounding as though it was further away.

"This is what we want," the Death Knight says, words slurring together. "We have been waiting."

_We?_

Byleth is suddenly furious.

How dare he wish for death. 

He wasn't worthy. He wasn't worthy of death, not that sort of ending, an ending where he had yet to repent for the people he had slaughtered and taken captive, regardless of orders. It was too easy. Too merciful.

How dare he wish for death when someone prayed dearly for his safety every single night-

"Kill me with that sword of yours," the Death Knight continues.

"Is that what you want?" Byleth can hear himself ask. It sounds muffled, as though he were hearing the words from within.

The Death Knight mouths something.

Byleth, still charged by fiery rage and indigation, kicks the wall next to Emile's head and digs in his heels there before removing his foot. Emile's eyes widen imperceptibly, and Byleth can feel his own lazy grin at the reaction. "If you're not going to think for yourself for a fucking change," he snaps, "then let me do all the thinking for you! Your life is mine, now, and I don't want to hear otherwise! Going on and on about mutual killings and how I am the only one to satiate you- _Act like it, then!_ I will decide if you live, and if you die! Hand over your life to me! Stop working for whoever it is you're fucking working for and let me take your leash so at the very least you'll stop nipping at my heels!"

Emile stares up at him, wide eyed and mouth slightly open. He looks deceptively young, and immature.

Byleth can feel his face heat up at his sudden outburst.

"Holy shit," Byleth can hear Claude gasp, even from how far away he was. Where even was Claude? He couldn't turn away from this man to look.

He thrusts out a hand towards Emile, furious. He wonders what sort of picture he makes- damp hair clinging together from sweat, nearly dripping into his bright, furious eyes, blood smeared unattractively across his cheek and shoulder, likely in his teeth from that spell, an odd shade of pink, lips turned up in an enraged smirk.

"I'll decide when you live and when you die," Byleth hisses. "I'll fight you whenever you wish, and beat you into the ground whenever you try. You won't ever win against me. You can rip my fucking head from my shoulders and you still will not ever win against me- and judging by that pathetically weak display, even if my head was torn from my body. But you said it yourself- only I can sate that bloodlust of yours. I'll even fucking kill you if you so desire, when the time is right. Join me, Emile. Beg me for the privilege of knowing I have your soul in my hands. No one else but me can ever satisfy your hunger, and you know it. I'll tumble you down to hell myself."

He exhales deeply.

"What the hell did I just say," Byleth blurts. He drops his outstretched hand.

Suddenly, all of his words rush back into his head and drag him headfirst into coherent thought. He sounded like an absolute madman. His hands shake for a Divine Pulse, but he's so flustered he can hardly think straight.

Byleth steps back. Very slowly. "I have completely lost it," Byleth whispers, embarrassed out of his mind.

"Marianne, could you be a dear and wave a heal spell over the professor's head or something," Dorothea calls, looking oddly flustered herself.

Byleth glances around to see that his students were closer than he thought. Bodies litter the arena, and yet his students stand looking exhausted, and yet still alive.

"Of c-course," Marianne whispers, quickly shuffling over to her professor. She is quickly stopped in her tracks when she spots the Death Knight move to stand, and she freezes. Byleth hurriedly hides her behind his back, and she clings to his cloak as if in thanks.

"Professor..." Emile says, the cracked bits of his mask slowly falling from his face. He stands, almost menacing, if Byleth was the type to be frightened by enemies that never seemed to die. "Your offer... Was it made out of jest?"

Byleth quickly remembers his embarrassing words and wishes for death to come and claim him. "Of course not. Unlike you, I am a man of my word."

"You'll kill me when the time is right," Emile repeats, as if for confirmation.

If Mercedes wanted it, Byleth would find a way to make this man live forever. "When the time is right, Emile." Byleth confirms.

"Emile..." the Death Knight mutters. "It seems to have been... So long, since I have heard that name."

"I'll call you whatever you want if you take up your sword for my will alone," Byleth tells him, and Marianne makes a small sound behind his back.

"The Death Knight... Jeritza... Emile. These monikers are simply names. By your will, I am anything you desire," Emile mutters.

"Uh, holy fuck?" Jeralt blurts. Byleth turns an indecent shade of red as he remembers his father was still there.

Emile looks at him, truly looks at him, one eye visible through a crack in the mask. "If you swear to kill me, I will be yours."

"What the fuck," Jeralt says, again, as though it would not make Byleth any more willing to crawl into a hole.

"Fine," Byleth says. "You are not allowed to die by any other hand. Will you follow my orders, then?"

Using the wall as support, Emile stands shakily on both feet, as though he were a newborn fawn. "I will slay you before you can kill me," Emile says.

Byleth frowns, making sure Marianne is safe behind him. "Is that a yes, or a no?"

The Death Knight picks up his scythe slowly, an odd lull to all of his motions. "Ever since I saw... No, long ago, when the Death Knight first saw you, I came to an understanding. That it was you, and you alone, who are capable of slaying me. Only you. I became fixated upon you, he fell under your spell, too."

"So what's your point?" Cyril calls out, sounding partly embarrassed and emboldened by the heat of battle. Byleth has almost forgotten that nearly everyone else could hear him, especially when the hall echoed so much.

"You're all I need," the Death Knight murmurs, solemnly. "Command me as you will. I am yours to control."

Even Byleth was aware that he was making an incomprehensible expression. "Well, before we discuss your obsession with my son," Jeralt pipes up, "we should get rid of these dastards first!"

Emile looks over to Byleth slowly. Byleth realizes, in slow dawning horror, that he was actually waiting for his command. Byleth nods his head, and the Death Knight turns his surroundings into chaos.

.

"Wow," Yuri greets him, as Byleth yanks the Death Knight by the horns of his stupid, broken mask, over to the center of the room. "I thought you were engaged, professor."

Byleth gives him a look so devoid of humor it practically destroys all emotion in the room. He pulls Emile down so that he was kneeling politely on the floor. Surprisingly, or perhaps unsurprisingly, he stays there, looking oddly demure. He steps back to wave heal spells over the man, and then he runs over to the horse, miraculously finding it still alive somehow, and waves a stronger heal spell over them. Marianne joins him, looking oddly determined. Wordlessly, he decides to leave this horse to her, and at her silent nod, he believes she understood. Byleth makes his way back to the center of the room, ignoring the red faces and the whispers of his students.

"'I'll tumble you down to hell myself!'" Constance booms, looking oddly pleased. "Ooh, such a good line. May I use it?"

Claude is busy laughing himself to an early grave somewhere just behind him. Byleth would love to join him.

"Professor, is this really a good idea?" Flayn pipes up, looking quite upset. He cannot blame her. "He kidnapped us!"

Byleth sighs, rolling his shoulders. "I am aware. But rather than having him under someone else's control and command, would it not be better for this man to be under mine? We can deal with his punishment for all of that at a later time."

Edelgard frowns. "Hold on. You cannot seriously believe that you can trust him, can you?"

"Rather than trusting him, I'm trusting that he'll be untrustworthy," Byleth replies, not looking at her face. "That likely made no sense, but no matter."

"Professor, what are you-"

"You won't disobey me, will you?" Byleth asks, and the Death Knight merely glances at him. He sighs. It appears he would have to take drastic measures.

Byleth glances over at Linhardt. "Please don't make a big deal out of this," Byleth tells him, wincing at the idea of Sothis waking up to see Linhardt freaking out once again over his powers.

"A big deal out of what, professor?"

Chewing briefly on his bottom lip, Byleth swallows. It's been awhile. "I command thee," Byleth begins, eyes narrowing at Emile. "Take off your helmet now, and set it on the floor."

Somewhere in his peripheral, Byleth can see Yuri smirk to himself, something dangerous and smooth. He winces.

Wordlessly, with wooden movements, Emile reaches up to his helmet and takes it off, eyes clearly glassy. Blond hair falls into his eyes, and he does not even blink it away.

Some of the students gasp and Byleth realizes that not everyone here knows his identity or face.

Constance makes a small sound. He wonders if she recognizes him.

"P-professor?" Marianne asks, nervously fidgeting with her skirt. "What's going on?"

Linhardt's eyes practically light up with stars, folding his hands together as if in prayer. "_No way, professor, why didn't you tell me that you could do such a thing?_ This is extraordinary!"

"What exactly is the professor doing?" Cyril asks, a look of confusion forming on his face.

"I command thee," Byleth repeats, a finger waving in the air. "Tell us who ordered you here."

Emile's face grows paler than usual, damp with sweat. His eyes flicker around, struggling with the command, before a fog falls over his eyes. "...No one. I merely followed the call of battle, and it led me here. To you."

Now Claude looks equally excited. "Professor...! What sort of sorcery is this? Did your goddess teach you this? Can I get some lessons?"

"How do you know he's even telling the truth?" Edelgard demands, looking surprisingly flustered. "He could just be lying, no matter what tricks the professor has performed."

Byleth scowls. It is not common for him to rise to the bait, but he dislikes when his abilities are looked down upon or frowned over. "Edelgard, I command thee. Turn around three times and hug Bernadetta."

Bernadetta immediately squeals at the mention of her name. "W-what?! Why are you getting Bernie involved in this?"

Edelgard's expression becomes slack. She turns around on a heel three times and leans over to the girl to bring her into a weak embrace, but an embrace nonetheless. The moment the command is completed, Edelgard immediately pushes herself away, eyes frantic as they fly over her hands and the professor.

"What was that," Edelgard snaps, her brows furrowing. She's far too young to have wrinkles. Byleth fights the urge to smooth out the lines forming on her forehead, like he would his students.

"Sothis accidentally gave this to me," Byleth says, and then frowns. "Or perhaps I learned it inadvertently from her. I don't know."

"Can she accidentally pass that talent to me as well?" Claude asks, gazing at Byleth like one would look at a particularly delicious bit of pudding.

"That's dangerous, professor," Edelgard scolds, as though she had any say in the matter, "and highly unethical! How could she simply entrust you with such a power?!"

Byleth hasn't been thinking clearly lately. Or perhaps his mind is too clear, which is why he finds himself teetering dangerously on an emotional edge. "Better me than you," he sneers, and then slaps a hand over his mouth when Claude whistles at his bold nature.

Edelgard stares at him as though she's been slapped, then turns a frightening shade of red. "What, exactly, is that supposed to mean?"

Yuri clears his throat. "You heard him, princess. Everyone calm down. I honestly would rather have that power go to a mercenary than, you know, the future emperor of a nation. Think of the connotations."

Her face slackens reluctantly at the reminder. Byleth huffs and raises his brows. "Emile, I command thee. You will never disobey me, nor will you bring harm to any innocents."

A flash of purple light, and then Byleth repeats the order, but replaces Emile's name with 'the Death Knight,' and then subsequently, 'Jeritza.'

Cyril tilts his head in confusion. "Just as precaution," Byleth murmurs, quiet now.

"This is quite immoral, professor," Edelgard says.

"I've only used it on one person prior to this," Byleth says, forcing his mouth to move. "And they consented to the experiment. And, additionally, I never said I was doing this out of the goodness of my heart." He wrinkles his nose.

"Why couldn't that be me!" Linhardt whines, surprisingly out of character. He looks indignant at the thought of being left out of Byleth's odd power schemes. "Professor, that is so unfair!"

"See," Dorothea speaks up, waving a dismissive hand around. "That's probably exactly why the professor didn't want to come and tell you, of all people, about this. And the professor is well aware of the... unethical side of this power, hence his only using it once. Right?"

She glances to Byleth for confirmation, looking confident in her deductions. Edelgard clearly is still not impressed. "Oh? And who was it used on?"

"Me," Jeralt pipes up, raising a brow at the imperial princess. Byleth wants to droop in relief at his father's lie. Edelgard's fists, which were clenched at her side, shake visibly for a moment before relaxing. "Of course the kid wouldn't tell anyone about this- besides, it was only used to confirm whether or not he was able to command people, rather than him commanding me to, I don't know, storm a village and invade the chapel and kill hundreds of innocents in the process."

Byleth wants to wince at that very, very, very pointed comment.

Yuri claps his hands together. "Moving on," he says, cutting through the din of tension harshly. "Professor, will you do the honors of interrogating this man?"

Byleth swallows at his pleased look. Yuri looks as though he's winning in a particularly high stakes card game- unable to contain his jubilation.

"No," Byleth says. "I'll interrogate him properly in front of the Archbishop," he tells them, fighting back a grin when he sees Edelgard's eyes widen imperceptibly.

Yuri shrugs. "Got it. I wish we took a mercenary for you to interrogate, too."

"Can you command someone to pay off my debts, professor?" Balthus asks, far too eager to be innocent. Hapi and Constance slap his arm.

"Before we move on," Byleth says, with a hum. "I command thee to stop," he says, and everyone freezes, breath frozen in their chest. Even those who are in mid step pause, staying upright through command alone.

"P-professor?" Marianne gasps, looking as though it has taken all of her strength to even speak a single word. 

Byleth shrugs, meeting everyone's eyes. "I cannot allow you to tell anyone about this. You understand, don't you? Forgive me." Byleth is far too tired to keep up his cool, blank persona. He meets Yuri and Claude's eyes evenly. They look unsurprised. "I command thee to never communicate any of my powers to anyone," Byleth orders softly. There is a flash of violet light- and the world resumes.

His students stare at him with wide eyes, while Lysithea puffs out one cheek. "I get it, but did you really have to command us? We can keep a secret."

Byleth allows a small, reverent smile to appear on his face. He could use a Divine Pulse, but he would rather have Edelgard, and perhaps even Yuri keep the knowledge of what he could do locked within their heads, knowing and yet unable to plot against him. "I can trust my students, of course, and my father," Byleth tells them, and the Blue Lions relax. 

They're too trusting. He is not worthy of such trust.

"I don't know if I can trust the rest of you," Byleth says, blank again. Claude pouts dramatically at him, but shrugs in acceptance.

Most of the students look surprisingly understanding, especially the Abyssians, which is probably the most surprising to Byleth. Bernadetta looks terrified, but that is simply normal for her. Yuri looks oddly triumphant.

He glances over to Edelgard, who looks furious, and can't hide a smile.

"I've chosen the keeper of my soul well," Emile suddenly says, and Byleth wants to groan.

"Shut up," Jeralt tells him. Emile's face remains stony. "Why must you say things like that...?"

"Because it is true," Emile says, raspy.

"Is that so," Byleth says, blankly. "Actually, Flayn. Would you like to give this man a punch?" Flayn perks up at the sound of her name, and then again at the offer.

Now Flayn has joined the starry eyed club with Linhardt and Claude, turning them on Byleth. "Really? Is that really okay?"

"Yeah," Byleth says.

"Is this something you should be encouraging, professor...?" Dorothea asks, trailing off. She's got a somewhat mischievous smile on her face, though, so he supposes she approves.

"I agree with Dorothea..." Edelgard adds, looking between the two of them with narrowed eyes.

"I think he deserves a punch," Linhardt offers, with a yawn. "At the very least. He did kidnap her. And us. I kind of want to punch him too, but I do think that Flayn has it handled. Besides. I am much more proficient in reason, anyway."

Balthus raises a hand. "Can I punch him too?"

"You don't even know him, Balthus." Constance scolds.

Yuri reaches up and lowers his raised hand. "Stop, you'll kill him. If the professor wanted the man dead, he would be already."

Flayn cracks her knuckles dramatically as she walks towards Emile, smile dangerous. "Okay, here goes!" She raises her fist.

Although she looked small, and although she favored magic, Byleth was very aware of her lineage. No matter what weapons she favored, no matter what she looked like, she was still technically a child of the goddess.

Flayn's strength may not be as impressive as Dimitri's, but she could certainly hurt someone if she so chose.

Her fist slams across the man's face, breaking his nose in one sickening crunch, blood splattering across her knuckles. Emile keels over, falling to one side without much resistance, and his head practically bounces against the stone floor.

It was certainly a satisfying sound.

Claude winces.

Flayn clenches both fists in triumph. "I feel so much better!" She declares, punching out her hands as though reliving the moment. "I don't think I hit hard enough... Perhaps if I went another go with my magic."

"Maybe another time," Byleth allows. He didn't want the man dead yet, after all.

And just as suddenly, a man warps in front of them, eyes frantic. "Was I too late? Oh, please tell me..."

"Elfie!" Constance declares.

Elfie, or Aelfric, smiles at her, thin lipped but genuine, dusting off his robes. "I am glad to see that all of you are unharmed. When I heard that you all led the invaders here, I grew worried, and had to follow." Aelfric turns to Jeralt with a wider grin. "But I suppose that if Jeralt is here, as well as his son, there was absolutely no reason to worry at all."

Jeralt punches Aelfric's shoulder, who laughs in return. "You're still so embarrassingly honest, even after all this time," Jeralt comments, looking oddly pleased.

"I live to serve," Aelfric says, straight faced. He meets eyes again with Byleth's father, and they burst into hearty chuckles.

"I've never seen him like this," Balthus mutters, glancing over at Aelfric.

"Oh, and what do we have here?" Aelfric says suddenly, turning towards the kneeling Emile. "An enemy? What are you going to do with him?"

"Byleth's got it under control," Jeralt cuts in. 

Aelfric hums, before turning away with a soft nod. "I see. I trust you. Thank you for helping us out with this mess, everyone. I'll find something nice for us all to eat for dinner."

Jeralt makes a face. "Find some decent tasting booze here first," he says, and Aelfric laughs.

Wordlessly, Byleth helps Emile to his feet. Apparently, he had lost every single coherent thought that didn't include accidentally recruiting an enemy. He doesn't even know what he'll do with him, especially considering all of the man's crimes... Not to mention, what to do with Edelgard, as she knew about some of his powers, and of his sudden recruitment.

He coughs into his glove and is endlessly thankful that the fabric was black. Byleth wouldn't want his students to see him choke up blood. Scowling, he runs a tongue over his teeth to make sure no blood was stuck somewhere he wouldn't see, but even then he would find a way to blame it on the battle.

Byleth felt weak. How long did it take him to get used to the Divine Pulses, and how long would it take for him to become used to this power? Better for the others to think it was unlimited. What was wrong with him? Why was it that he could grow flowers randomly and conjure storms, and yet a few simple commands cost him his breath and made his head spin endlessly? He supposes that they were not simple, but Byleth was so used to having at least the smallest bit of time under his thumb that he had grown used to such extraordinary power.

Everyone is watching him too closely. Emile, and that Aelfric man. Their eyes dart to him as though drinking in the sight. It made his skin crawl and his hands grow clammy with sweat.

He would have to keep an eye on Emile. Byleth had no idea why he followed the Flame Emperor, and had no idea how he managed to convince him to switch sides so suddenly. Whatever the Flame Emperor had used to convince Emile to follow her, Byleth still has no idea. And although he could command obedience, it would be difficult to command loyalty. Probably. Well. He could figure that out himself, whether it be told willingly, or by command.

It seemed as though commands such as 'stop' were wholly different from 'obey me,' which was obvious in retrospect, but hell on his head. Whenever he blinks, little bursts of stars appear behind his eyelids. Byleth follows the line of brick stones that pave the ground to keep him walking steady. That, and Emile's piercing gaze.

And Aelfric...

Byleth cannot trust him, no matter how happy his father looked when he saw the man. After all, he could still see Dima there, waving over Aelfric's shoulder.

They head back to the main halls of Abyss, Aelfric's promises of good food lifting their heels. Perhaps Byleth had some sort of power to check if it was poisoned, somehow. But no, this man would probably not be that obvious.

"I hear you're a church member of some sort?" Hapi says, conversationally, as they walk. Byleth tilts his head.

"They pay me, so I suppose," Byleth replies evenly, but she only shakes her head at his response.

"No, I thought you were higher up," Hapi says. "Are we allowed to send complaints through you to the Archbishop? Maybe send a complaint to the goddess?"

Byleth blinks. She's probably being sarcastic, but... "Sure."

"Sure what?"

"I can tell Sothis when she's awake," Byleth says, and all of the Abyssians save for Yuri look at him as though he's grown a second head or gone absolutely mad. "...You don't believe me."

"Absolutely not," Constance says, almost cheerful. "I heard rumors of the goddess' return, but how could a mere professor, let alone a mercenary speak with her?"

Dorothea shakes her head, to Byleth's surprise. She weaves an arm under his so she can tug him closer, as if attempting to physically pull him away from their words. "No, he's actually telling the truth. For some reason they've got history together."

"Yeah right," Balthus snorts.

Byleth shrugs. He was not going to try and prove himself. Besides, Sothis really did not do anything goddess like, at least around him. She mainly gossiped and ate fruits with a ferocity that Byleth was not eager to defy. 

"It's true," Yuri butts in. They turn to him as he tosses his hair over one shoulder. "You really think I'd ask just anyone from the church? Worst comes to worst, he'll be insurance."

"Thanks," Byleth says, before any of the Blue Lions, or god forbid, his father, can snap at him.

"So we're just going to pretend like none of that just happened?" Linhardt cuts in suddenly. He gestures fervently at the oddly demure man walking in front of them. "Professor, what do you plan on doing with the Death Knight? We can't just bring him back to the academy like nothing is wrong."

Linhardt did have a point. The aforementioned Death Knight, ridiculously sized scythe and all, was simply walking ahead of them so he wouldn't stab him in the back.

"...Byleth said..." Emile suddenly speaks up, and everyone flinches back away from him, weapons at the ready. But Emile simply keeps walking along, as if he hasn't noticed at all. "He said that my life was his now, and if the time was right, he'd be the one to kill me. That my life was his, now."

Now that Byleth thinks about it, he probably should have worded that better. For some reason, that sounded...

"It's a really fucked up proposal, huh?" Balthus comments.

"Please stop that. I'm already engaged," Byleth says, pitifully.

"Besides, no one is marrying Byleth until I approve," Jeralt adds, and Byleth cannot help but stare at his father with wide eyes. Was he serious right now? That was not at all the point.

"Professor, you're engaged?" Linhardt asks. Byleth turns to stare at the boy.

"Are you serious," Byleth asks. Linhardt only blinks at him. "Linhardt, how many moons have you been in my class. How long have you been 'observing' me."

Linhardt stares back. "What does your potential marriage have to do anything at all with my observations, professor?"

Lysithea rolls her eyes to the heavens.

"Don't you follow the Flame Emperor?" Edelgard demands, suddenly. Byleth wants to wince on her behalf. She was a little too obvious, and judging by the looks Yuri, Claude and Linhardt were shooting her, he wasn't the only one who noticed.

Emile stares blankly ahead. "I bow to no one. I listen to the strong. Byleth has defeated me, and my life is in his hands now."

"Do you know how many times the professor has defeated you by now..." Flayn says, surprisingly fierce. "Goodness, you are very annoying. No wonder the professor is so mean to you."

"You're cute when you're angry, professor," Hilda says, inexplicably. Byleth has no idea what to say that, so he pretends as though he hasn't heard it at all.

"I don't even particularly want your life," Byleth says, and even he can hear how pathetic he sounds. This was such a mess. He needed to find a way to stop this man's warp powers and throw him in jail for good.

Byleth could command him to simply stop using his powers forever. His commands would hold him to that promise, but... 

He knows that Emile has done terrible things, but he was still human, and stripping someone of their powers like that was not right. 

But then again, planning someone's untimely death wasn't exactly just, either. He glances over at Edelgard, whose expression was particularly stormy.

A thought occurs to Byleth. Perhaps he should recruit the rest of the Black Eagles to his house. He had already recruited the majority of them without intending to, and stripping her of even one more ally could work in his favor in the future. Byleth has not spoken with Petra much, but perhaps Bernadetta would be easier to sway.

He glances over at the girl, who was busy trying to become one with her hood and realizes that it probably would not be that easy. But still, finding ways to hinder Edelgard in any way, shape or form possible just made Byleth giddy.

It was difficult for him to look at Bernadetta head on without remembering that time. Her eyes, wrought with absolute terror as the platform she had been assigned to stand upon had been set ablaze by the emperor. The way her hands shook as she reached for Byleth, for anyone nearby to save her. How she was too weak from her wounds and the flames licking at her heels to even gather herself up into a small ball and cry.

Byleth shakes his head. He could save her from such a fate in this lifetime. 

"Perhaps you should value your life more," Byleth tells Emile, solemn. After all, there was someone he cared for deeply, that did.

"I await the day we truly duel to the death," Emile says, as though he has not heard, and Byleth kisses his teeth so he doesn't actually scream aloud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAVE I FED YOU JERITZA STANS LOL
> 
> final fantasy victory theme plays: emile kind of joins the party against everyone's will especially byleth lol
> 
> oh my fucking god i hate writing fight scenes lol ANYWAY lol byleth is becoming far too reckless and angry. he doesn't know what to do with all of these emotions save for dive into plans he hasn't thought out properly lol
> 
> they should have given emile more supports. at the very least one between him and edel like Bro
> 
> HAHAHAHAHA YEAH YOU'RE NOT SEEING THE REST OF THE LETTER YET LOL NOT UNTIL I SAY SO. im nervous now cause it's building up and some might hate what you see but others are gonna be happy lol i already know 
> 
> next time on godspeed! dimitri and byleth work around the horrible complications that have to do with emotions! dimi coronation continues, byleth regrets all of his life choices! look forward to it!
> 
> once again i must sincerely thank all of you for reading so far. seriously. my love goes out to all of you. thank u so much for supporting my fic godspeed for so long. ily
> 
> thank you so very much for reading ♡ one of my ultimate goals with this fic is to hit 6969 kudos no im not even kidding dhdhdh
> 
> byleth/dimitri B rank  
byleth/dedue B rank  
byleth/felix B rank  
byleth/annette B rank  
byleth/ingrid B rank  
byleth/sylvain B rank  
byleth/mercedes B rank  
byleth/ashe B rank  
byleth/linhardt B rank  
byleth/ferdinand B rank  
byleth/lysithea B rank  
byleth/cyril B rank  
byleth/flayn B rank  
byleth/caspar B rank  
byleth/dorothea C+ rank  
byleth/marianne C+ rank
> 
> byleth/jeritza B rank
> 
> byleth/jeralt A rank   
byleth/sothis A rank  
byleth/claude C+ rank  
byleth/yuri ??? rank  
byleth/edelgard C rank  
byleth/rhea C+ rank

**Author's Note:**

> okay side note on this byleth and this sothis. they have only ever lived one route. their opinions on edel and the rest of the characters will vary because of this fact. that does not mean said opinions are subject to change, lol. however in this fic i would like to cover all things in this game including but not limited to rhea and the bitches that slither in the dark- as well as jeralt's backstory so hopefully that clears up stuff
> 
> thank you so much for reading!


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